The History of Those We Thought We Knew
by StaceyLC
Summary: As Harry begins his quest for the remaining horcruxes, his world is turned completely upsidedown by the return of Severus Snape, and Harry learns more than he ever thought possible about Snape, his parents, and the burning question of Dumbledore's death.
1. The Other Side

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and all it's character's belong to J. K. Rowling and the WB.

Harry Potter

"The History of Those We Thought We Knew"

Chapter 1

_The Other Side_

If there was one thing that could be said about the derelict little town that contained a street called Spinner's End, it would be that, if on the off chance that you were perhaps on the run from wizarding law - or any other law for that matter - it would be the last place on earth that anyone would come looking for you. Spinner's End was the last signposted street in a long line of very similar looking streets with very similar looking houses, complete with garbage strewn walkways and gutters. The place had an odd sense of abandonment. Not a single person could be seen either outside or within their homes, for the windows of all the houses were so encrusted with grime that even if there were people living in them, there would be no chance of seeing them from the outside, or for them to see anything from the inside. And this was exactly what the man who appeared out of thin air liked most about Spinner's End.

Quiet and privacy . . . especially now.

The man was tall and thin, and what could be seen of his face through his long, dark and greasy hair was pale. He carried a wand, which he did not bother to hide, because he knew no one would be around to notice it anyway. There was a smaller man - no, a boy, almost a man - in tow, and he couldn't have been more different from the one that was leading him up the winding street. He was also pale, but in an "I'm about to be sick" way, his blond hair sleek and shiny and slicked back. He also carried a wand, and he was gripping it so tightly it looked like it was about to break. His eyes were icy gray and wide with fright, as opposed to the taller man's, who had just swept his hair away from his narrowed, dark ones.

The dark-haired man lead his companion to the very last house. It seemed that the younger man had had enough, however, for he tried to tug his arm out of the dark- haired man's grip.

"Don't be an idiot," said the man without taking his eyes off his surroundings. Before he got to the door of the house, he did an odd wave with his wand and a red light seemed to engulf the house and the yard around it before it went back to normal. He then pointed his wand at the door, which clicked and opened, and shoved the younger man inside. He took one last look around Spinner's End before slamming it shut and locking it once more. With another flick of his wand, the man had lit the candles in the hanging ceiling lamp above them, which illuminated the room and its two inhabitants in a faint, orange glow. The younger man looked around the small, shabby room. He still had not put away his wand.

"Where the hell are we?" he demanded. His voice tried to sound commanding, but there was a definite note of fear and shock in it. The other man had thrown his cloak down onto the grubby little couch and was busying himself over by a wall of books, which he pushed open to reveal another room.

"My home," he answered.

The younger man looked like he was about to say something rude, and then thought better of it. "What was that thing you did outside? With the light?"

"A certain type of barrier spell," the dark-haired man answered. "It will alert us when they arrive."

He disappeared into the door. The younger man didn't seem to need an explanation as to who "they" were. Instead, he gulped slightly, his eyes widening even more. He looked down and noticed that the hand that still held his wand was shaking. He put his wand away finally and put both hands in his pockets to make it stop. "Do you think the Order will come after us right away?"

There was the sound of clinking from the other room, and the other man's voice floated back through the door. "Of course not. Besides, they would never think of looking here."

The younger man, who was just about to sit down on an old armchair, jumped right back up again. The older man continued: "No, I expect a few of our . . . friends . . . will be joining us very soon. That is why we came here." The younger man pulled out his wand again, but the dark-haired man had reappeared in the tiny sitting room. He scowled at the wand that was now being directed toward him. "Don't be ridiculous, Draco. You will not be harmed."

"Oh yeah?" sneered Draco Malfoy. "Why did you bring me here, then? You knew that when we didn't Apparate with the others that he'd . . . he'd come looking."

"Yes," the older man said. His voice sounded odd. "I did."

It was then that Draco noticed that the older man was holding a small vial. He walked over to Draco and pushed it roughly into the blonds' other hand, then turned and walked back across the room. Draco looked at it. It was extremely dusty and contained some kind of liquid. "What's this supposed to be?"

"Tut, tut, Mr. Malfoy," the older man sneered. "And you did so well in Potions."

Now it was Draco's turn to scowl, but he reexamined the vial again, more closely, and this time a look of comprehension dawned on his face.

"That's a concentrated dose," the older man explained. "It should do. You should drink that immediately."

"But . . . you killed him. The oath . . . the oath should be done now-"

"Do as I say," the older man said sternly.

But Draco didn't move. The older man walked back across the room and didn't stop until his hooked nose was barely inches from Draco's face.

"You are being a foolish little boy," he said in no more than a whisper. "Less than an hour ago you were about to kill what some considered to be the greatest wizard in the world. Have you lost that much nerve in such a short amount of time, that you cannot now find the courage to drink a bit of potion?"

Draco whimpered. "But, I didn't-"

"No. You didn't. And that is why you must _do what you are told_."

The room suddenly flashed a bright red. Draco blinked against the harshness of it, but the dark-haired man simply stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable.

"They're here," he said, simply. He took hold of Draco's arm and yanked him into the other room, which turned out to be a small, dank kitchen. "Drink it now," he ordered. "We're running out of time."

Draco looked like he was about to be very ill. He uncorked the vial as the dark-haired man swept back into the sitting room. He looked around for a moment, took out his wand, and pointed it at a spindly looking chair, which promptly broke clean in half. Draco jumped, almost spilling the liquid everywhere. "What are you doing!" he exclaimed, as the older man pointed his wand at another wall of books, sending them flying. It was then Draco noticed that the man's arm was bleeding. There were three, long gashes in the material of his robes, and Draco looked down to see spots of blood on the kitchen floor. The dark-haired man turned to him.

"Making it believable," he said. "Drink. It. Now."

There was a noise outside, the sound of many feet making their way up the walkway that lead to the dark-haired man's house. The dark-haired man glared at Draco, who hesitated no longer, and downed the contents of the vial in one gulp. He stood quite still for a moment, and then went as pale as death. He convulsed slightly and then fell to the floor in a heap. The dark-haired man walked over to the fallen form of Draco. He was as still as stone, the vial still clutched in his cold, white hand. The dark-haired man picked it up, waved his wand and murmured, "_Oblitero_." The vial vanished. Then, pocketing his own wand, he retrieved Draco's and ripped off some of the cloth covering his unwounded arm. Jaw clenched, he pointed the wand at his exposed skin and drew several long, deep, and horrible lines in his own flesh. He tossed the wand aside as, mere seconds later, there came several loud bangs on the man's front door. He walked over and threw it open.

There were five black clad and hooded figures standing in his walkway. There was a sixth figure as well, although he was not dressed in the robes that the others were, his face not hidden in a dark mask. His face was white as a skull, with red eyes and slits for nostrils. He considered the dark-haired man in front of him, who was breathing heavily and leaning against the door frame, blood running down both his arms.

"Good evening, Severus," Voldemort greeted him, in a cold voice.

Severus Snape managed a bow, his eyes never leaving Voldemort's gaze. "My Lord."

He moved aside, so that Voldemort and the Death Eaters behind him could move into the dismantled sitting room. Voldemort barely took his eyes off Snape as he shut the door and turned to face them. He swept over to Voldemort and bowed once more.

"Alecto tells me that we have succeeded," Voldemort began. "She also tells me that you were the one to do it."

Snape gave the faintest of nods. The blood from his newest wound was dripping into a small puddle on the floor.

"Albus Dumbledore," Voldemort spat, "killed by one of his own most trusted professors. I commend you, my friend. You have triumphed where all others before you have failed." His eyes swept across the room. "No one else before me had the courage or the power to do what the Malfoy boy could not."

Some of the Death Eaters shifted around uncomfortably. Voldemort beckoned Snape to stand. "You will be most rewarded, my friend. I know now that you are my greatest and most faithful servant. However..." He narrowed his red eyes. "There is still the matter of the boy." He glanced at Snape's bleeding arms. "Why was he not brought before me? Why did you not return with the others? I would have most enjoyed hearing the tale of the great Dumbledore's demise from the tongue of his murderer."

"Forgive me, My Lord," Snape began. "I wanted to save you the bother of dealing with him."

Voldemort said nothing, so Snape continued: "He trusted me and looked up to me. I did his task and I also dealt his punishment. It seemed... fitting."

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward and lowered their hood. Bellatrix Lestrange glared at Snape through her heavily-lidded eyes. "Where is he?"

Snape nodded to the hidden door that lead into the kitchen. Bellatrix and another Death Eater immediately turned and went through it. Voldemort surveyed the wreckage in the sitting room and glanced at Snape's wounds again. "I take it he did not go quietly?"

"He thought he could, er, defend himself, My Lord," Snape replied.

Voldemort laughed, cold and cruel. "Fool. Must have taken after his father. Lucius turned out to be quite the disappointment."

Bellatrix returned to the sitting room, followed by the other Death Eater. She turned to Voldemort and nodded. "He speaks the truth. My nephew is dead." She sighed in an annoyed sort of way. "My sister will be most aggrieved."

Voldemort gave Snape an appraising look. "Well done, my friend, well done. You've surpassed my greatest expectations." He took out his wand, pointed it at one of Snape's ruined arms, and began to heal it. He then did the same with Snape's other arm. "Voldemort always rewards those who are faithful to him."

Snape bowed again. "Thank you, My Lord."

"He did it to you, I suspect," said Voldemort, nodding toward the kitchen. "Powerful magic, that. _Sectumsempra_, I believe."

Snape nodded.

"One of your more ingenious inventions. I take it you taught it to him?"

"Indeed. Although, I regret doing so now."

Voldemort smiled cruelly. "Rise, Severus," he said. "It is _they_ who should be bowing to me." He indicated the Death Eaters around them. "They, who so unwisely distrusted you, even though I did so implicitly. They, who apparently thought they knew better than the Dark Lord himself." He stared at each of them in turn as they bowed and muttered apologies. "Here stands the man whom all of you claimed would betray me, claimed would be my next downfall. He stands before you now the greatest of my loyal Death Eaters, and he will be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams. This man," he pointed at Snape, "killed Albus Dumbledore. _This man_. Not _you_, Amycus, with your boasts of duels and Muggle tortures." One of the Death Eaters trembled slightly. "Nor you, Alecto, who could not even deal with a few simpering Hogwarts students. Not even," and he turned to face Bellatrix, "_you_, Bella, who was so keen to dissuade me from putting my confidence in Severus."

Bellatrix bristled. "I would have, My Lord. But, you deemed it necessary for me to keep watch on Narcissa-"

"Yes," Voldemort snapped, making Bellatrix jump, "I _deemed_ it necessary. Do you again doubt me, Bellatrix? It's beginning to get tiresome."

Bellatrix's eyes widened slightly and she bowed deeper than ever. "Of course not, My Lord. Never. I just-"

"Silence! Your jealousy of Severus' talent and relevance has become quite tedious. I will tolerate it no longer."

Voldemort turned his back on her, but Bellatrix continued to glare at Snape with pure loathing.

"However," Voldemort continued, "I do have to admit that even I had become suspicious. Especially after you did not return with the others." Snape didn't move, nor did he break eye contact with Voldemort. "Amycus told me that you were still... teaching... Potter when they Disapparated. I thought, perhaps, that the boy had somehow managed to harm you. Or, you had lost your nerve, and returned to the Order of the Phoenix, begging for their forgiveness. Especially once I found out that you had come here." Voldemort smiled slightly. Snape was now staring at a point beyond Voldemort, his lip curling slightly, as one of the Death Eaters began twitching nervously. "Yes, I knew you were here," the Dark Lord continued, interpreting Snape's gaze correctly. "I thought I would give you the benefit of explaining yourself to me. Wormtail here saw you and the boy Apparate in the street and came at once to report to me."

Peter Pettigrew whimpered as Snape rounded on him. "Why you filthy, sneaking little _vermin_," Snape spat at him furiously as Pettigrew squealed and tried to duck behind another Death Eater. "You _dare_ spy on me? You _dare_ to try and turn the Dark Lord against me?"

"Calm yourself, Severus," Voldemort said, placing his long fingered hand on Snape's shoulder. "My confidence in you, as you know, as been restored. And," he smiled, and his red eyes seemed to glow even brighter, "I give you Wormtail as a reward, to do what you wish with him."

Wormtail's eyes bulged with fright. "But-but, My Lord-"

Voldemort ignored him. "Come," he said to his Death Eaters. "We have work to do now. No one will dare stop us now, thanks to Severus. He will forever be remembered as the one who defeated Albus Dumbledore. He will forever be remembered as Lord Voldemort's most faithful servant."

The Death Eaters rose and followed Voldemort to the door. Snape threw one more disgusted look at Petigrew before coming and opening it. "My Lord, if I may," he began. Voldemort nodded. "Narcissa had nothing to do with the boy's sudden lack of courage. In fact, I believe she pushed him hardest of all to accomplish his task."

"You ask me to spare her."

"I am asking you to take what I have said into consideration, My Lord, but only if you wish to do so."

Voldemort studied him before answering: "I am feeling somewhat gracious to you at the moment, Severus. It is done. For now, she will not be harmed."

The Dark Lord's meaning did not go unnoticed by Snape, who bowed once more. Voldemort again placed his hand on his shoulder. "You have served me well, Severus. Be prepared. I shall summon you when we are ready."

He swept out the door, the Death Eaters following him. Snape waited until they had Disapparated before shutting the door. Taking out his wand, he locked it again. Wormtail was still whimpering and sputtering, trying to hide himself behind the patched armchair. "You miserable little rodent," Snape snarled, grabbing Wormtail and pointing the wand at his throat. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't curse you into a thousand disgusting little pieces."

"Forgive me, Severus, forgive me!" Wormtail pleaded, shaking uncontrollably. "Th-there was no harm done! And the Dark Lord... the Dark Lord favors you now most of all-"

"Of course he does, you vile piece of filth, with no thanks to you! You were hoping him to catch me in some act of betrayal, no doubt. What, did you think that he would then confide in _you_? That _you _would be revered by the others as being his most trusted and loyal servant?" Snape shook him. Wormtail whimpered and cried. "I have tolerated your presence in my home for long enough."

"Severus," Wormtail begged. "Severus, please..."

Snape stiffened and his hold on Wormtail loosened ever so slightly. He narrowed his eyes and then threw Wormtail to the floor. Without giving him a second glance, he strode into the kitchen where the still form Draco lay. Wormtail, crawling on his hands and knees, peered around the door frame. When he saw Draco's body he gave a tiny squeal of fright.

"What are you going to do to me?" he asked, voice quavering. "What you did to him?"

Snape snorted. "Doubtful." He was digging through a tall cabinet filled with rows and rows of clear, crystal vials, each containing a liquid of some sort. He reached in all the way to the back and retrieved a round, dusty vial full of some ominous looking green fluid.

"You're going to poison me!" Wormtail exclaimed, and jumped as Snape slammed the cabinet door shut, glaring.

"Be quiet," he hissed at him, uncorking the vial. "I have something else planned for you. Something more useful, if you can manage it."

Snape knelt down beside Draco, dipping the contents into his mouth. Wormtail stared at him as Snape sighed. "It pains me to admit that you were right in summoning the Dark Lord here tonight, Wormtail, for I did indeed deceive him. I had a feeling it was a matter of time before he discovered our whereabouts, but I was extremely surprised that he arrived here so quickly. I never dreamed that you would have the gall to spy on me. I knew you had taken to eavesdropping on my conversations, which was extremely irritating, by the way. But this amount of bravery from you, Wormtail, is nothing short of astonishing. You haven't had the 'courage' to report on me since our Hogwarts days." Snape dipped some more potion into Draco's mouth. "Of course, then you were merely reporting to your slimy little friends, so they could spring yet another prank on me for their amusement. Your transforming abilities served you well, even then. And now, they will be put to their most important use of all."

Before Wormtail could ask, he jumped a clean two feet in the air as Draco sat bolt upright, coughing and shaking. The color was slowly returning to his cheeks, but he still looked pale and clammy.

"But-but," Wormtail sputtered. "The Dark Lord... you told him he was dead! Bellatrix confirmed it."

"Because Bellatrix is an idiot, as are most of the people in the Dark Lord's service," Snape explained, as he helped Draco to his feet. "Oh, they can be clever, yes. Bellatrix can definitely be clever. And powerful. But even the cleverest person can let something sneak by them because they are not looking for it. There is a fine line between cleverness and ignorance."

Draco was still swaying unsteadily, his eye lids drooping. Snape shook him. "You must stay awake, Draco. The antidote will take affect shortly." He turned to Wormtail once more, who was shakily getting up off the floor himself. "The Draught of Living Death, as you very well know, is almost undetectable. It leaves no smell and is virtually tasteless. But it is also simple, Wormtail. So simply obvious that Bellatrix and her fellow Death Eaters wouldn't give it a second thought, because the fact that they could be tricked by it is laughable to them. Which is why it worked. I would even be so arrogant to presume that it would have fooled even the Dark Lord himself if he had chosen to come an examine Draco. I am a very accomplished Occlumens, Wormtail. The Dark Lord already believed me when I told him that I had killed Draco. He believed that the wounds on my arms with due to a duel with Draco, but in fact one of them was caused by a hippogriff and the other I did to myself, with Draco's wand. I planted a false memory in my mind, which I showed to the Dark Lord. And as I had destroyed the evidence that there was even a potion at all, he had no reason to doubt me."

Wormtail stood there in complete disbelief and fear. All the color had returned to Draco's face now, and Snape lead him over to the couch and let him sink down upon it.

"You are my reward, Wormtail," Snape said, smoothly. "The Dark Lord said I could do what I wish with you. I will not harm you, as long as you do exactly as you are told. And, as I am also a very accomplished Legilimens, if I get so much of a hint that you are going to betray me, either now or in the future, I will have resort to, er, drastic measures. I do not want to have to place the Imperious Curse on you, Wormtail."

Draco was regarding both of them curiously. "It worked, then?" Snape rolled his eyes. "Look, I was just making sure, okay? More than just my life's at stake here..."

"Touching. Have no fear, Draco, my brilliant plan worked," Snape said sarcastically. "For the moment, your mother is safe. As your father is in Azkaban, I think we can assume that he is as well."

"Are you sure?" Draco asked in a small voice. Snape didn't answer. When he spoke again it was to Wormtail:

"I made an Unbreakable Vow with Draco's mother that he would not be harmed. Your job, Wormtail, will be to make sure that it stays that way. I am going to send him somewhere that he will be safe and hidden. You will accompany him, as a rat, and make regular reports to me to assure me that all is well. You will not repeat what you have heard here tonight, and you will not reenter the Dark Lord's service, as he will believe that you're dead. If you do, the consequences will be most unpleasant. Do you understand?"

"_What!_" Draco exclaimed, jumping off the couch. "You're sending me with _him_? Are you mad?"

Snape pushed Draco back onto the couch. "Be silent, Draco. You haven't answered me, Wormtail. And do not even think about lying. Do-you-understand?"

Wormtail whimpered slightly, but nodded. "Y-yes."

Snape glared at him for a moment but seemed satisfied. "Very well."

Draco looked mutinous. "This is ridiculous! You _have_ gone mad, You-Know-Who did something to you while I was.. whatever I was over there! You can't possibly think I'll be safe with _him_. Why can't I stay with you?"

"I assure you, you will be safe. You cannot stay with me, because I am sure that the Dark Lord will be making more frequent visits to me after what happened tonight at Hogwarts. You cannot be around if he drops by unexpectedly. It would be a surprise, to say the least, if he caught you here after I lied to him most effectively about your death. Furthermore, I have orders of my own for what I am to be doing with my time."

"What are you going to be doing?" Draco asked eagerly.

"What I have always done," Snape replied, coolly.

Draco frowned. "Where are you sending me, then?"

"Leavesden," Snape replied, going over to a pitiful little desk in the corner. He pointed his wand at the armchair, which zoomed over to him, leaving a trail on the dusty floor. Sitting down, he took out a quill, ink, and parchment from the desk and began to write. "I have an... acquaintance there. I have made arrangements for you to stay with him. I believe you will be well guarded, as I am quite sure no one in our world knows of his existence."

"And this bloke's okay with it, is he?" Draco asked, sounding unconvinced.

"He was reluctant at first but I...persuaded him to come around." Snape didn't say any more on the subject, but continued to write, the scratching of his quill the only sound. He dipped his quill in the ink again, and said, "I think it would be wise for the two of you to stay here until morning. There is another hidden room in the basement of this house. I suggest you stay there." He put down his quill and rolled up the parchment, sealing it magically, and handed it to Draco. "Give this to him when you arrive. You will have to open it for him, and then I think that is the last bit of magic that you should do for some time. At least until things are settled."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why would I have to open it for him?"

"Because I sealed it with magic," Snape said in a tone that he would have used if he was talking to someone very dense. "And seeing as he is a Muggle, he will not be able to open it."

Draco's eyes almost bugged out of his head. "A _Muggle?_ You're-"

"If you insinuate one more time that I've gone mad I'm going to give you another dose of Living Death," Snape said, tiredly. "Do you think I'm stupid, Mr. Malfoy? Do you think I would just send you off with anyone without any careful planning?"

Comprehension dawned on Draco's face. "You knew I wasn't going to do it, didn't you? You've been planning this all along, waiting for me to screw up-"

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told you at Hogwarts: You are behaving like a child. You were concerned about your fame and glory when I tried to council you at school, and now I am going out of my way to ensure you're safety and you blatantly accuse me of plotting your 'screw up', as you so eloquently put it. What do you want me to tell you, Draco? What do you want to hear? That it was all a setup? That you never were intended to kill Dumbledore? It was all some elaborate ploy?"

Draco's gaze didn't falter. "Was it?" he asked.

The two of them stared at each other, Draco glaring, Snape remaining stonily silent. "Make sure he gets that note," Snape said finally, and without another word he went back into the kitchen and opened a door in the floor. "The door is on the far wall, left of the portrait. The both of you are to remain there until I retrieve you tomorrow morning." Wormtail squeaked and hurried down the hidden stairs without having to be told twice. Draco, however, continued to glare at Snape from the sitting room. Snape walked over to him menacingly. "Go," he hissed at him.

"I'm not a child," Draco told him. "I've had to grow up a lot over this past year, and I have a right to know what's going on. I _need_ to know."

Snape studied him, his dark eyes glinting. "Now is not the time, Draco. And as much as you think you've grown up, you are not yet an adult. You think you've seen horrible things... done horrible things? You have no idea what the people in this world are capable of, and you have yet to see anything remotely horrible, I can promise you. Now, join Wormtail downstairs. I will come and collect you in the morning."

Draco looked for a second like he was about to try and continue the argument. But, with one more withering look at Snape, he retreated into the kitchen and down the stairs. Snape followed and closed the trap door, making it again seamless against the dirty tiles of the kitchen floor.

Snape went back into his ruined sitting room. He looked around at the fallen books, some badly damaged now - spines torn and pages ripped out. The wooden chair still lay in pieces on the floor. With an almost irritated sigh, he took out his wand and pointed at the objects on the floor. They immediately repaired themselves and went back to their original positions - the books neatly on their shelves, the chair whole once more. He retrieved Draco's wand, which had rolled over by one of the bookshelves when he had thrown it. Placing it on the rickety old desk, he sat back down in the armchair and began to examine the places where Voldemort had healed him. He noticed, with no surprise, that there was a significant amount of scarring. He repaired his torn clothes with another wave of his wand, and with yet another he extinguished the candles in the ceiling lamp. He then sat alone in the dark and the gloom, the rustling of the wind and the occasional creak of a board the only break in the constant silence.

Meanwhile, a great distance away, a sixteen year-old boy was in a hospital wing, also retelling events that had taken place earlier that night, while a slow, mournful tune played across the grounds and drifted through the open windows.


	2. When We Last Left Our Hero

Chapter Two

_When We Last Left Our Hero..._

It had been three days. Just three days. Harry Potter couldn't believe that only that short amount of time had past since the funeral. It had felt like forever. Time, it seemed to Harry, had slowed down to the speed of snail, and every hour of every day was painful and harsh. The train ride from Hogwarts was agony, and Harry had wished desperately for it never to arrive at Kings Cross station. Once he got off the train, that was it - there was no going back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; there would be no summer vacation. There would only be the start of real life, and in Harry's opinion, real life was highly overrated.

The days that had passed between Dumbledore's death and the funeral were filled with probably the last happy memories that Harry was going to have for a long time, and he was well aware of it. Two weeks ago, everything had been fine. Well, as fine as it could be with Voldemort around. For the first time since the days of Lupin and the imposter Moody, lessons were going well (except, for once, Defense Against the Dark Arts, which had annoyed Harry to no end) and he had been learning loads. He had been Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And he'd had Ginny. And then had come that fateful night of the fake horcrux and the Astronomy Tower and Snape, and Harry's world had been literally torn apart. _Snape_, thought Harry, his insides boiling with anger. Mere mention of that name would send Harry's temper to the boiling point so quickly that on their last day at Hogwarts, Ron had started taking bets on how long it would be before Harry's head actually exploded. Harry would break whatever he had been holding at the time, or slam down whatever he was carrying, or, if his hands were free, punch the closest wall or chair or cupboard or anything else around him that wasn't moving._ Well, it's not likely I'll be hearing that name around here_, Harry thought. _That's one small bit of comfort_.

For Harry was once again back at Privet Drive. He'd had a horrible row with Hermione and Ron on the train, who had insisted that they come with him back to his Aunt and Uncle's.

"We told you we were coming!" Ron had bellowed at him, his face and ears a fiery red that matched his hair. "No more than two hours ago! And you-"

"-Never agreed to it!" Harry had shouted back, interrupting him. "Look... I have to go back there first. Even _they_ need to know what's going on. I'll meet up with you guys at Bill and Fleur's wedding," Harry continued, talking over Hermione and Ron's protests, "and then you can come back with me from there until my birthday. Okay?"

After much more shouting they agreed. He had bid them goodbye on the platform at Kings Cross, where Mrs. Weasley had tried and tried to invite him to the Burrow for the summer instead. "No, I've got to go back with them for a while," he had said. "I really should let them know what's happened, it concerns them, too. It concerns everyone." Ginny had given him one last, long and lingering kiss before running off to join her parents and brother, eyes brimming with tears. Harry wasn't sure how to feel about this. They hadn't technically finished their conversation from earlier. She had to understand that it was over, even if he didn't want it to be. The point was that it _had_ to be. It was one thing for Hermione and Ron to be putting themselves in danger; they were his best friends and now both adults. But if he could save Ginny from that kind of life, he would.

But Harry hadn't bothered explaining anything to his Aunt and Uncle, at least not yet. Instead, he had been succumbing lately to increased bouts of depression, much as he had the summer before last, hiding himself up in his room for hours at a time. He knew this wasn't healthy. He knew he should be concentrating on the horcruxes, but the very thought of what life had in store for him made him physically ill, and then it made him angry, and then it made him scared. He wasn't scared for himself rather than scared for his friends. He knew they would never waver from their statement at the funeral. They were with him till the end. When that end would be, Harry had no idea, and he was just hoping that all three of them would live to see it. The thought of losing either of them was more than Harry could take, and he tried hard not to think about it.

Besides being scared he was stressed; he had absolutely no idea how he was going to find the remaining horcruxes. The Hogwarts library had been, and would be, no help. He had found out before that horcruxes were such a forbidden subject that no book contained any information on them whatsoever. Hermione had become increasingly disgusted with the library because of this. Ron and Harry had said it was a good first step toward her actually becoming normal.

Harry awoke that morning in one of his angry phases. He'd had a dream that Snape was taunting him with the locket as he was chained to the chair used in the old Ministry trials. The chains would let Harry's hands reach so far, but Snape would always jerk the locket away just as Harry's fingers were about to touch it. Harry hadn't bothered reading the Daily Prophet that had been dropped off earlier that morning. There was nothing in there that he didn't know already. Yesterday's issue was just coverage of Dumbledore's funeral, the same pictures of known Death Eaters, and the same assurances that they were still searching for Severus Snape. Harry decided that it was bad enough dreaming about Snape; he didn't want to have to read about him either. He came down the stairs, poured himself some orange juice, and sat down at the kitchen table next to his Uncle, whose face was hidden behind the morning newspaper. He took a sip of juice, glanced at the front page, and nearly spit it out all over the table. There, on the front page of a Muggle newspaper, was his ex-potions teacher's face. It wasn't moving, like in the photographs from the Wizarding world, but it bore the cold, leering expression that Harry had seen so many times over the last six years.

_They couldn't have caught him_, Harry thought frantically. He kicked himself for not checking the Daily Prophet, but he had been sure there was no way the Ministry was every going to be able to find Snape. He yanked it out of his Uncle's hands ("What do you think you're doing, boy!") and scanned the article. But it looked like it was just a warning sent out to the Muggle community, much like they had done with Sirius four years ago. What surprised him even more was that Aunt Petunia, who had been watching a morning talk show with Dudley, caught on right away to Harry's reaction.

"He's one of _you_, isn't he?" she asked, a small hint of fear in her voice.

Harry nodded absent-mindedly, taking in the author's comments... _known murderer... dangerous... possibly armed... reward if located, contact police..._

_Like that's going to do any good, _Harry thought, savagely. _He'd probably just kill them all, too._

"What's he doing in our paper?" Uncle Vernon asked, pulling it out of Harry's grip. He scanned the article as well. "Hmph! Might have known. Another one of you lot's gone off the deep end."

"He used to be my teacher," Harry told them.

Harry could tell Uncle Vernon was dying to say something along the lines of "Why couldn't he have finished you off then" but he held his tongue and said instead, "I shouldn't be surprised they'd let someone like _that_ teach in a school... if you can call that circus you go to a _school_. Nutters, all of you!"

Harry took a deep breath. Deciding he'd put it off for long enough, he said: "There is no more school."

There was a crash from the living room as Dudley fell off the chair he was perched on trying to eavesdrop on the conversation, followed by one of the loudest silences Harry had ever heard. Uncle Vernon's face was beginning its daily routine of going purple.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even. "I thought that old codger said last summer that you had one more year and then you'd be out of our hair."

"Actually, I only have another month," Harry corrected him. "I come of age when I'm seventeen, remember? And then the magic-" Uncle Vernon's mustache twitched - "protecting me while I'm allowed in the house is over and I can leave."

"Why don't you have school?" Aunt Petunia asked. She was looking at him rather oddly.

"What does it matter?" Uncle Vernon said, loudly. "He'll be gone and we'll never have to bother with this business again, school or no school!"

Harry had shared a moment like this with Aunt Petunia only once, and that was two years ago when he had told her, and his Uncle and cousin, that Voldemort had returned. "Because Dumbledore's dead. That man, on the cover of the newspaper... Severus Snape... he killed him."

"Snape killed Dumbledore?" Aunt Petunia asked. Harry noticed that her eyes were wide with not only fright, but also surprise. Harry stared at her.

"You knew him, didn't you?" he asked. "How?"

Aunt Petunia shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to Uncle Vernon's, who was staring at her, open-mouthed. "Of course I knew Dumbledore, he sent me those letters-"

"Not Dumbledore," Harry interrupted. "Snape."

"I-I only saw him once, in passing, really," Aunt Petunia explained. "At her wedding-"

"_What!_" Harry exclaimed. "_Snape_ was at my _parents_' wedding? I don't believe it. My dad would never... I don't believe it." Harry felt like his brain had completely shut down.

"Well, he wasn't invited, if that's what you're going on about," Aunt Petunia sniffed. "I wouldn't have gone myself, believe me, but my parents said they would never forgive me if I didn't come. He wanted to talk to _her_... trying to talk her out of marrying that fool of a boy, from what it sounded like. Unfortunately, he didn't succeed, and here you are."

"So, basically, he tried to crash my parents wedding," Harry growled. His hatred for Snape seemed to be escalating to an alarming level over the last few days. Harry was envisioning all the horrible curses he'd like to use on Snape when he caught him when the reality of what Aunt Petunia had just said sunk in. "Wait... that doesn't make any sense." _Snape didn't give a damn about my mum... _"He hated my parents. Why would he care-"

"How should I know? I'm telling you I've seen him before," Aunt Petunia said, firmly, pointing at Snape's picture. "Disgusting, greasy fellow. Rude as anything, too." She bit her lip, shooting nervous glances in Uncle Vernon's direction. "If that man... Dumbledore... if he's gone, that means things are bad, doesn't it?"

Harry was still reeling from the knowledge that not only did Aunt Petunia know about Azkaban, Dementors, and Dumbledore, but that she had met Snape and that, for some obscure reason, Snape had shown up at his parents wedding, that at first he didn't hear what she had said. He realized that his Aunt and Uncle were looking at him expectantly and snapped himself out of it. "Yeah... things are bad. Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard in the world. Without him . . . " Harry felt his throat getting tight. "Without him, I don't know what's going to happen." He sighed. "I'll be here for a while, and then I've got to go to a wedding. Ron and Hermione are coming back with me and we'll stay here until my birthday."

Harry waited for the explosion and wasn't disappointed. Uncle Vernon turned a brilliant shade of magenta and jumped out of his chair. "Who do you think you are? You don't just decide your bringing some freaks into our house!"

"Would you have said 'yes' if I asked you?" Harry said, shortly.

Uncle Vernon's eyes bulged too about twice their normal size. "NO!" he shouted.

"Well, then," Harry shrugged. "I'm not asking and I'm not deciding; I'm _telling_ you - Ron and Hermione are coming back here with me. They're going to stay in my room. I guess I'll just camp out on the couch down here. We'll leave before midnight the day I turn seventeen, just in case."

"Just in case what?" asked Aunt Petunia.

Harry glanced at her. "Just in case they come looking," he said ominously.

Uncle Vernon was still sputtering wildly, and Harry figured it wouldn't be long before he started pulling tufts of hair out of his mustache. "Don't even bother with all of that, it won't make any difference," Harry said, tiredly. "There's no stopping them, so you might as well get used to the idea."

Aunt Petunia looked like she had been slapped in the face, Dudley was staring wide-eyed over the couch, and the vein in Uncle Vernon's forehead started pulsing threateningly.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, through clenched teeth.

"I said get used to it." Harry's temper was starting to rise. "Yes, Ron's a wizard and Hermione's a witch. They won't be flying over on broomsticks or anything, so you can stop worrying about what your stupid neighbors are going to think. Haven't you heard a word I just said? Dumbledore is dead. I think you should be a little less concerned about what Mrs. What's-Her-Name down the street is going to think, and bit more worried about whether you're all going to be around to find out whether she cares or not."

"And what's to stop us from chucking you out before your birthday, eh?" Uncle Vernon smirked.

"Dumbledore explained that one to you, too, or don't you remember? I can tell you right now that _she_ hasn't forgotten," Harry said, nodding to his Aunt. "Besides... Hermione and Ron are of age now, so you wouldn't be able to stop them anyway. They're allowed to use magic whenever they want. And I won't be at all fussed if they get bored one day and turn you all into tea cozies."

He grabbed his orange juice off the table and turned to head back upstairs. "I'll let you know when I'll be leaving for the wedding when Ron sends me the invite."

And then he turned and started back up the stairs, leaving his Aunt and Uncle sitting in stunned silence.

Harry didn't have to wait too long. The very next day he got a letter from Ron giving him the date of Bill and Fleur's wedding:

_Harry,_

_Oy, mate! I figured I should probably send you a letter about the wedding since I told you to come to it and all. Er, not trying to sound like Hermione or anything, but I hope you're doing all right. Mum's in a right state about Dumbledore. Well, at least she says it's about Dumbledore, but I think she's still not entirely happy Bill and Fleur, though they have been getting along much better since that night in the hospital wing._

_Fleur said she wasn't going to waste an invitation on you since she figured you were coming anyway. I told her that was right, and Bill's got a spot reserved for you on the family's side. It's ridiculous, everyone from our family is going to be there, it'll probably scare the hell out of you. Watch out for my Aunt Tessy... she gets drunk and makes you dance with her. I got stuck doing the Goblin Romp with her at Percy's graduation party. I still have nightmares about it, actually. _

_Er... Ginny's a bridesmaid. Dunno why I'm telling you that because even if she wasn't, you'd have to see her anyway... What exactly happened with you two, she's been really secretive and won't talk to anyone. I'm not mad at you or anything, I promise... Um... how are things with the Muggles?_

_Hermione's coming, too, of course. She's written to me about a hundred times already. She's barking mad, it's only been about three days since we saw each other._

_What all should we pack for your Aunt and Uncle's? The wedding is on July 11th, by the way, so they'll only have to put up with us for, what, three weeks? Eh, not too bad. If they have a problem they can just sod off. _

_Oh, did you see the Muggle paper yesterday? Dad told me Scrimgeour made the Muggle Prime Minister put out a warning about Snape. I figured you'd have seen it, living with them and everything. I'm surprised his ugly face didn't kill all the Muggles when they saw it. Stupid git. I'd say something else about him but Mum's been tutting over me since I started writing to you. She's told me to put in that she hopes that you're okay and that they're feeding you enough, and if you want her to send you some pies. Say yes so she'll make some and I can nick them up to my room._

_Dad says he'll come pick you up on the tenth since you've done side-long Apparition before. I retake my test the day you come. Wish me luck!_

_See you in a few weeks,_

_Ron_

Oddly enough, Harry had been fantasizing lately about Mrs. Weasley's mince pies, especially after the burnt-black chicken he had been forced to eat for dinner last night. Harry had wondered vaguely whether Aunt Petunia had made it that way on purpose after his attitude at breakfast, but figured that even the Dursley's wouldn't even torture themselves just to make Harry miserable. He sent back his response with Hedwig half an hour later:

_Dear Weasel Boy (heh, kidding!)_

_Yes, PLEASE send some of your mum's mince meat pies. If I have to eat one more spinach salad, or three day old corned beef with mash, I think I'll do Voldemort a favor and kill myself. It's not like he'd mind, eh? I swear, I think they're doing it on purpose after I told them all you and Hermione were coming. Granted, the food here is always horrible, but it's usually not THIS bad. _

_I see you're not trying to Floo me back to your place this time. Shame, really, because I would have loved to have Dudley try and eat another one of the Wizard Wheezes. Puking Pastille would have been brilliant, but I think even he's not that stupid anymore. Wizened up a bit after living with a wizard for almost seven years. It's absolutely no fun anymore trying to scare him by saying this like "Hocus Pocus" or "Bippity Boppity Boo"._

_Yes, I did see the article the other day. How could I miss it, he was on the front page! Oh, that reminds me, my Aunt Petunia said something really weird in regards to Snape... I'll tell you about it when I get to the Burrow on the tenth. Speaking of, I don't think I'm going to come back here after the wedding, so you might not have to worry about it after all. I've left during the summer before, and I really think I should get started on my, er, homework. _

_I think I'm going to write to Hermione... she's the brainy one, you know, and she might be able to help me with it. Not saying you can't or anything, mate, but you know she'd enjoy it. I'm really nervous... my teacher didn't pull any stops on this assignment and I'm not sure whether I'll do well, but I know I have to. It's not like I can get by with a P or a D this time around._

_Anyway, tell your mum thanks for the pies, and I will see you all soon. _

_Harry_

He'd had some trouble with the last part, trying not only to convey his feelings, but to put it in a way that if the letter was intercepted it could be in no way related to the horcruxes, which had not been an easy task. He was sure that Ron would know what he was talking about, though. He then wrote to Hermione, asking for her telephone number. Ron had tried contacting him by phone before and it had been a complete disaster, but seeing as how Hermione was Muggle-born he figured his and Hermione's correspondence would be easier this way, plus there was no danger from anyone in the Wizarding world intercepting their calls.

Over the next two weeks before the wedding, Harry stayed out of his Aunt and Uncle's way, locking himself in his room, studying out of his old textbooks, and memorizing spells he thought may be useful. He couldn't practice any of them yet, even nonverbally, as he was still under the age of seventeen and could risk no more disciplinary actions from the Ministry involving his use of underage magic. He knew nonverbal spells were where he needed the most work, and resolved to master them before the summer was over. But for now it seemed the "Umbridge Approach" of understanding the theories behind the spells was going to have to do, which aggravated Harry to no ends. What angered Harry even more was that, for some odd reason, he had been thinking lately about that wretched Potions book. He hadn't wanted to admit it at first as he began his studying, but he had grudgingly realized that Snape's old book might have held some spell-work that could come in useful during his quest. It horrified him that he was actually starting to miss it. He hated thinking about that book, about how he used to think of the Prince (no, _Snape_, for God's sake) as a friend and mentor, how he had felt that the book had been a better teacher than either Slughorn or Snape, and then the irony of how it had turned out to be the latter's tips that he had relied on so much. He hated himself now for using those spells, even the beloved _Muffliato_ that had come in so handily during their Charms lessons. And he didn't even want to think about _Sectumsempra . . . _

_I should have known then who I was dealing with_, Harry thought, angrily. But the truth was that, deep down, he didn't even think Snape was capable of creating something like that. But then he reminded himself firmly that Snape was a Death Eater, he had murdered Dumbledore, and he was capable of anything. He had been mentally kicking himself for not recognizing Snape's handwriting. As he was sifting through his notes one day in his room, he had pulled out some of his old Potion's homework and studied the remarks that Snape had scrawled over it. Snape's handwriting had changed a little over the years from when he had been at school with Harry's father, but there was no mistaking it. Harry had tried very hard to resist the urge to throw it all in the fireplace downstairs, but the part of his mind that always sounded like Hermione had warned: _You might need that . . . _

Mrs. Weasley's pies had arrived the first day of Harry's second week at the Dursley's, followed soon after by a letter from Hermione with her phone number. It also contained instructions for when to call:

_I think it would be best if you phoned me instead, remember what happened when Ron called? Of course, he didn't know what he was doing, did he, but I think that even someone who sounded relatively normal asking for you wouldn't be wise. _

_This should only take a day to get to you... call me Thursday night once you're sure everyone at your house is asleep. Don't worry about waking anyone on my end; I'll be up and I'll keep the phone with me._

Harry had waited till around eleven o'clock that Thursday evening, poking his head out of his bedroom door every now and then until he was satisfied that Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were sound asleep. He crept down the hallway, listening intently to his Uncle's snores, wishing he could use _Muffliato_ on all their doors, but he still had another two and half weeks before he could legally use magic; plus, that would mean relying on one of Snape's spells, and he knew his pride wouldn't have allowed him to anyway. He climbed down the stairs as silently as he could and tiptoed into the kitchen. Pausing once more to make sure there were no sounds coming from upstairs, he closed the parlor door and went over to the phone. He checked Hermione's number written on his hand, punched it in, and waited. It had barely rung once when a breathy, whispered voice came over the ear piece:

"Harry, is that you?"

"No," he replied, smiling.

Hermione sighed in an exasperated way. "Oh, ha ha."

Harry's insides filled with warmth at the sound of his friend's voice. He hadn't realized how much he had missed Hermione, and how much he needed both her and Ron. "All right?"

"I suppose. I'm all right has humanly possible, considering. You're sure everyone's asleep? I don't want you getting into trouble."

Harry grinned in spite of himself. _Typical Hermione_, he thought, fondly. But he paused anyway, listening for any hint of sound or movement. "Yeah, it's all good here. Look, I wanted to ask you a favor, and I know you won't mind."

"Let me guess," Hermione said, and Harry could tell she was smiling. "It involves books and research?"

"Only the best for you. Can you get as much information as you can about Protection Spells and Barrier Spells? I know the horcruxes will be protected by some enchantment or another, but the locket's protection included some kind of wall you had to get through, so I figure it might be the same with the others. Bring as much as you can to the wedding - books, your own notes, I don't care. Anything you think will help."

"Absolutely, you know I will. I have some books here at home that might have some information, and I'll Owl Order some more from Diagon Alley. I have some books on Ancient Magic that may come in handy as well. I'll bring them, too."

"Brilliant."

Hermione paused, and he could tell she was steeling herself to say something. "How have you been, Harry? Really."

Harry swallowed the tightness that had suddenly starting creeping up his throat. "I haven't exactly turned into Moaning Myrtle or anything, but... it's been a bit rough. I'm dealing with it." He sighed. "I've been studying up, actually, you'd be proud of me."

"Good!"

"Of course, it doesn't do much help when I can't practice any of the spells..."

"You'll be able to, soon, though. Your birthday's not too far away. Oh, Harry, what are you going to do!"

"About my birthday?"

"Yes! The spell Dumbledore did... won't it be over?"

Harry swallowed again. His mouth had gone very dry, and his insides were squirming as they always did whenever he started thinking about life after his birthday. "Yes. And I have no idea what to do about it." He shifted uncomfortably. "Can we talk about all this at the wedding?"

"Harry," Hermione began, "I know you're worried and you're scared, you can't keep hiding it, it's not healthy. You need to talk to someone."

"Like I needed to talk about Sirius?" Harry asked, starting to feel annoyed. "There are some things I have to deal with on my own, Hermione."

"This isn't one of them. Ron and I said we'd be there for you, Harry, and we didn't mean just helping you with the horcruxes."

Harry was about to argue back, when there was a noise from upstairs. "Damn, I've got to run, I hear someone. Cheers, Hermione, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Are you sure-"

"Seriously, Hermione, I have to go!"

There was a whispered, "Okay, bye!" and a click as Hermione hung up. His heart pounding, Harry hooked the phone back onto the receiver just in time to see Uncle Vernon throw open the door to the kitchen.

"What the ruddy hell are you doing up?" he roared, his face already a deep shade of purple.

"Nothing," Harry said.

"You were using the phone!" Uncle Vernon stated matter-of-factly, pointing a finger at Harry.

"Oh, well done," Harry snapped. He had put up with the Dursley's for long enough. He only had to suffer another four days of their company and then he'd be free of them forever. "Are we having a state-the-obvious-contest or something?"

Uncle Vernon blinked. Recovering himself, he demanded: "Who was it?"

"Hermione."

"You were calling one of your freaky friends on our telephone?" Uncle Vernon was actually shaking with fury now. "How dare you! I won't have it, boy, I will absolutely not have it! And I will not tolerate your behavior any longer either! After everything that we've done-"

Harry laughed. "Please! You locked me in a cupboard for ten years of my life! Okay, you never beat me or anything, but you weren't nice to me either. I grew up hiding from Dudley and his stupid friends. You gave me food and you gave me clothes, and that's it!"

"We let you stay!" Uncle Vernon fired back. "We didn't have to! God knows I don't understand why we did it at all, but we took you in all the same. We could have left you on the street to starve or had you hauled off to some orphanage in London, but Petunia brought you into this house and by thunder you will be grateful for it!"

They stood there glaring at each other from across the kitchen for a good thirty seconds before Harry rolled his eyes and started making his way toward the door. Uncle Vernon blocked it. "We're not finished."

"Yeah, actually, we are. You let me stay because of Dumbledore. Nothing more and nothing less. You might not understand, but Aunt Petunia must have, because it's pretty damn obvious from where I'm standing that she doesn't want me here either, but she went along with whatever Dumbledore did. I'm grateful to him for that, and no one else. Now get out of my way so I can go to bed."

Uncle Vernon worked his mouth furiously but no sound came out. Finally, as if by someone else's will and not his own, he moved aside so Harry could slip past. Harry was halfway up the stairs when Uncle Vernon found his voice again: "Once you leave, don't you ever think of coming back here, boy."

Harry didn't even pause in his trek back upstairs has he replied, "Why would I ever want to?"


	3. Loose Ends part one

_Author's Note: I'm so sorry about the long time between updates. College has been kicking my ass and then I had an accident at work (I very nearly took off my finger) and I can't type. I'm having my sister do this for me. So as not to lose readers, I am posting what I have so far for chapter 3. It's not much, but hopefully it will do for a while. _

Chapter Three

_Loose Ends_

True to Ron's word, Mr. Weasley arrived Monday morning to escort Harry back to the Burrow. Harry had his trunk packed and Hedwig in her cage waiting at the door. This moment seemed too surreal for Harry, who had officially decided he was not returning to the Dursley's after Bill and Fleur's wedding. Dumbledore had wanted him to come back and he had. But now the time had come for him to do what he was meant to do. He subconsciously gripped the locket - the fake horcrux - tightly in his hand. He had taken to wearing it every day, having it constantly on his person, so he would never forget.

The Dursley's were sitting in the living room. Aunt Petunia looked nervous and Dudley looked ill, but Uncle Vernon was already as angry as ever, for he had asked Harry earlier that morning who they were sending to pick him up.

"Ron's dad . . . Mr. Weasley. You remember-"

"That ruddy idiot who almost blew up our house!" Uncle Vernon bellowed.

Harry thought that was a severe exaggeration, but he answered: "Er . . . yeah, that's him. I don't know if he's coming alone or not, either."

"So, you're telling me that we might have a bunch of-of . . . _weirdos_ knocking on our door?"

Harry had started to ignore him by this point. There was no use in arguing and it was better to just let his Uncle have his rant. As Harry waited by the foot of the stairs, he caught a few muttered: "...not hosting the damn circus . . . " and "finally leaving, and good riddance . . . " coming from the other room.

Harry had half-expected them to be celebrating. He had informed them that morning of his decision to remain at the Burrow after the wedding and that they needn't worry about the arrival of Ron and Hermione.

"Too right!" Uncle Vernon had exclaimed, but Aunt Petunia had said nothing. In fact, she had been acting very strangely all morning. She kept shooting Harry furtive glances and couldn't seem to stay in the same position for more than a few minutes. The only time she had spoken was to remind Uncle Vernon that Harry still had to remain welcome in their house, at least until July 31st. She did so, not grudgingly or disdainfully, but quite calmly, as if she had given the matter a lot of thought. She hadn't said anything more about Snape or Dumbledore since that day two weeks ago, which suited Harry fine; if there was one person he didn't want to talk about Dumbledore with, it was definitely his Aunt Petunia, the woman who had denied that magic had even existed for ten years and tried very hard to pretend that she hadn't had a witch for a sister.

At around half-past ten, Dudley - tired of his mother's fidgeting and his father's incessant muttering - decided to saunter over to where Harry was sitting by the stairs.

"So," he said, looming over Harry.

"So what?" Harry retorted.

Dudley scowled, crossing his meaty arms over his wide chest. Dudley's musculature had become even more defined over the last year, and he was now as tall as Uncle Vernon and just as wide. "You're finally gone for good."

"Just figured that out now, did you, Dudders? What, you're not going to miss me, are you? I mean, I know I was your favorite punching bag, but really."

Dudley's scowl deepened. "You know, you're acting pretty tough for someone who's about to die."

Harry blinked. "Are you planning on killing me or something?"

Dudley smirked. "I'm not stupid, you know. I was listening two years ago, when you said that Dark Lord of the Sith or whatever was back. I was listening when you said he was after you. And I know that you had to be allowed back in the house every year to protect you from him. But now you're leaving." Dudley's pudgy, pig-nosed face was just inches from Harry's now. "I mean, he killed your parents, Potter. You don't stand a chance."

Harry was taken aback. This sudden upsurge of hostility was quite unnerving, even from Dudley, who had made it his life's mission to be nothing but hostile to everyone and everything around him. Harry refused to back down, however. "Shows how much you know, Dudley." He glared back into his cousin's eyes, and decided just to go the usual route: "You have no idea how powerful I am."

Dudley's gaze wavered ever so slightly. "You can't scare me. I told you, I'm not stupid. You can't do magic until your birthday."

Harry shrugged. "I can wait."

He hit the jackpot on that one. Dudley paled slightly and took a step back just as there was a knock on the door. He jumped and sprinted for the living room as Harry leapt off the stairs and wrenched it open, and came face to face with . . .

Nothing.

Harry stared. "Moody's invisibility cloak?" he asked the thin air in front of him.

"Righto, Harry," came Mr. Weasley's voice. He cleared his throat.

"Oh, right . . . er. . . what is your greatest ambition?"

"To find out how airplanes stay up. Which reminds me! Anthony Dreyfus . . . he works in my department . . . new recruit . . . he's Muggleborn and his brother actually happens to be one of those 'pillbots' that fly the planes! I was thinking about asking him . . . oh, my."

Harry was too busy inwardly laughing at Mr. Weasley's use of the word "pillbots" that he hadn't realized that the Durlsey's had crowded around the door as well. Curiosity, it seemed, had surpassed their dislike for all things magical, and they had come to see what the hold up was.

"Who are you talking to, boy?" Uncle Vernon demanded, looking around the patio wildly. "Neighbors are going to think you've gone round the twist, standing in the doorway and - ARGGHHHH!"

Mr. Weasley had just taken off Moody's extra cloak. Harry pulled him inside quickly and slammed the door. He'd been sure that no one was outside or even looking at Number Four when Mr. Weasley had appeared out of nowhere, but Uncle Vernon's yell was probably heard halfway to Hogsmeade.

"Ah, yes, sorry about that. I hope I didn't give you all a fright," Mr. Weasley apologized, grinning sheepishly. "It's, er, very nice to see you all again." He knew well enough not to bother to try and shake Uncle Vernon's hand this time, and instead turned back to Harry. "We forgot about your question, Harry-"

"My patronus is a stag. It's me. I've got my stuff right here. Let's go."

Uncle Vernon was still looking daggers at Mr. Weasley as Harry hefted his trunk and Hedwig's cage over to the door. "Are we Apparating from here, or . . . " Harry began, but Mr. Weasley shook his head.

"No, I don't think that'd be a very good idea, Harry, even if you are with me. The Ministry doesn't keep tabs on which Muggles know about magic and which don't, and given the circumstances-"

Harry shrugged, ignoring the confused (and furious, in Uncle Vernon's case) looks he was getting from the Dursleys. "I get it. That's fine."

"There's an Apparition point right around the corner," Mr. Weasley explained. He was starting to look a bit uneasy. "Um . . . Harry, I think I'm going to wait outside . . . "

"Good idea," Uncle Vernon rumbled. Harry shot him a look.

"I've got my cloak right here in my trunk," Harry said, taking that they would need to travel unseen. "Hermione rescued it for me after . . . well, you know. It'll only take a minute."

Mr. Weasley shifted uncomfortably as Harry dug around inside his trunk for his father's Invisibility Cloak. It shimmered as he pulled it out and draped it over his arm. He handed Hedwig's cage to an obliging Mr. Weasley, and then turned to face his relatives.

"Well . . . " he began. "I guess I really should say thank you." Uncle Vernon huffed slightly. Harry ignored him, and instead spoke directly to his Aunt. "It, er, probably wasn't easy for you to do what you did. But it's kept me safe, and I know . . . I know my Mum would be thankful to you. And, I guess, I am, too. So . . . yeah. Thanks."

Aunt Petunia was shooting Harry nervous glances again. She looked like she rather wanted to say something, but apparently thought better of it, and remained silent. Harry shrugged.

"Ready, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry grinned at him. "Absolutely." _This is it_, Harry thought. To his dismay, he felt a little apprehensive. He wasn't leaving for Hogwarts this time. There would be no going back. He found himself taking one last look around the Dursley's parlor, his eyes finally coming to rest on his relatives. "Yeah . . . it's time." He turned back to Mr. Weasley and the door. "I'm ready."


	4. Loose Ends part two

The Apparition Point was, quite literally, right around the corner. Harry and Mr. Weasley, both concealed under their Invisibility Cloaks (Mr. Weasley had kept hold of Harry's arm so he'd know where they were headed), walked to the end of Privet Drive and came to a stop almost exactly where Harry and Dumbledore had Disapparated that previous summer. It made Harry's stomach clench unpleasantly. Mr. Weasley must have felt Harry stiffen beside him, for he asked, quietly, "Something wrong, Harry?"

Harry swallowed, his mouth going dry yet again. It was starting to become some kind of nervous habit. _I really ought to invest in some cough drops_, he thought. He readjusted his cloak to make sure his trunk wasn't showing. Both he and Mr. Weasley had had to stoop uncomfortably to avoid being seen as they walked down the street. "No. I'm fine. Just a bit nervous, I guess. I've only done Side-Long Apparition a few times before with Dumbledore. It's a lot harder with a trunk."

Mr. Weasley laughed softly. "I completely understand. Just, try to relax and hold on tight, okay?"

Harry nodded, realized that Mr. Weasley couldn't see him, and answered, "Okay."

"Brace yourself, now."

Harry felt Mr. Weasley's grip on him tighten, and he held onto his trunk for dear life as they both turned on the spot and Harry felt the all too familiar, uncomfortable feeling of being stuffed in a tube. Just as Harry thought his lungs would burst, they reappeared in the lane that lead to the Burrow. Harry felt happier than he had in weeks at the sight of the crooked, many storied home of his favorite family. He and Mr. Weasley removed their Invisibility Cloaks and headed up the small, dirt path.

"Is Ron back from his Apparition Test?" Harry asked, remembering his friend's letter.

"No, no, not yet, I would expect. He was supposed to leave a little after me. Charlie offered to take him down to the Ministry this morning," Mr. Weasley answered.

"That reminds me . . . why aren't you at work?"

"Vacation," Mr. Weasley answered. "I know, not really the time for one, but they offered me a few days off for the big event. Molly insisted that I just go ahead and take it, there's no telling when they'll offer me another."

Harry was inclined to agree. As they got closer to the Burrow, Harry noticed with a great deal of surprise that it was decorated with sparkly gold banners. A golden wreath hung on the door. Lilies lined the path that they had walked up that Harry was sure hadn't been there any time he'd visited before. And a white sign was sticking out of the ground, also adorned with ribbons and such, that read "Weasley-DeLacour Ceremony" in loopy gold lettering. Harry stared. Mr. Weasley grinned at him.

"Looks nice, eh? Prettiest, crooked old house in all of Britain," he said, winking.

"What happened to it?" Harry asked, indignantly. Realizing he had just sounded horribly rude, he turned to Mr. Weasley: "I'm sorry, Sir, it really does look nice, honestly, but . . . "

"It's just not the same? I completely understand."

"Are you holding the reception here, or-"

"Reception? God, no! The _whole thing's_ being held at the house! Didn't Ron say?"

Harry blinked and looked around the golden Burrow again. From everything he'd seen and heard from Fleur DeLacour, holding her wedding at the Weasley's home didn't seem like something she'd be too inclined to agree to. "Has Fleur been feeling all right?" he asked.

Mr. Weasley laughed and lead the way inside. Harry sighed thankfully as he saw the interior of the Burrow remained the same and hadn't been subjected to Fleur's coloration of choice. "Actually," Mr. Weasley continued. "Fleur's changed quite a bit. Oh, she's still, well . . . you know Fleur, but after what happened to Bill . . . " Mr. Weasley paused for a moment and Harry respectfully looked the other way until he could continue. "Well, anyway, she remembered that earlier on Bill said he'd always wanted to get married at home, but Fleur's family had wanted something grander. I think the attack kind of woke her up to less materialistic issues. She completely changed the wedding plans to have it at the Burrow for Bill. Molly's ecstatic about it, of course. And I think they both realized that it would be safer as well, because we already have our own wards and protections here. Now they won't have to go out of their way to find a secure location and go about the bother of setting up the necessary spells and whatnot. As you probably imagined, the Weasley family has drawn more attention to themselves this time around."

Harry felt an unwelcome pang of guilt at this last comment. "I can imagine. I'm sorry."

Mr. Weasley blinked. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Harry! Molly, Bill, Charlie, and I joined the Order of our own volition. And we couldn't be happier that you and Ron are such good friends." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You have a big enough chip on your shoulder, my boy. No need to add things you have no control over onto it. Okay?"

Harry nodded, but that didn't stop him from feeling that some of the Weasley's troubles were his fault. If he wasn't friends with Ron . . .

Mr. Weasley gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Good. Now, I'll just take your trunk upstairs,

and-"

"HARRY!"

Suddenly, Harry was knocked to the floor by a squealing something with a mass of bushy, brown hair.

"'Lo, Hermione," Harry managed to get out as he found his breath. Hermione finally let him up, grinning broadly. "When did you get here?" he asked her.

"Last night," Hermione said, breathlessly. "It's so good to see you! Are you doing all right?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno, I guess the fact that I never have to set foot in the Dursley's again still hasn't hit me yet. If I start screaming my head off and start dancing around the room a few hours from now, you'll know why."

Hermione laughed. "Come on upstairs, I've got loads to show you! Oh, I'll take that Mr. Weasley," she said, taking Harry's trunk. "I'm sure you're really busy."

"Thank you, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said. "Is Molly still out back?" At Hermione's nod, he sighed: "Back to the decorating then. You two go ahead and catch up, I'm sure Ron will be home soon."

Hermione waved her wand and Harry's trunk began to float its way up the stairs to Ron's bedroom. The two of them clambered up behind it, Harry once again carrying Hedwig and her cage. Once in the room, Hermione deposited the trunk at the foot of one of the beds that had been jammed in there and shut the door. Harry unlocked Hedwig and she soared out the open window.

"I've brought the books you asked for," she said. "I hid them under Ron's bed."

Harry stooped to retrieve them. He pulled out Hermione's bag, jammed full of books as usual, only these weren't textbooks. He dumped them onto Ron's bed and his mouth fell open. He knew Hermione wouldn't let him down, but this was unreal. _Magick Most Revered_ volumes one, two, and three were there, along with _A Guide to Barrier Spells_,_ Ancient Spellwork for the New Age Wizard, Protection and Barrier Spells Unleashed, Ancient Protections (That You've Always Wanted to Try and Now You Can), _and _A Compendium of Defensive Spellwork_. There were some others about simple barriers and wards as well. These, combined with all of Harry's schoolbooks from the past six years and the books that Lupin and Sirius had given him his fifth year, gave Harry his own little miniature library.

"Hermione . . . " he began, but found that he was speechless. "I don't . . . I don't know what to say. This is _amazing_!"

Hermione beamed at him. "I haven't gotten a chance to read _all_ of them, of course, but of the ones I read I think they're going to be a big help at showing you and preparing you for some of the shielding charms and protections you might be up against. I, er, also took out an order for some books from Knockturn Alley," she added in a whisper, even though they were quite alone. "I mean, I know these will help you, Harry, but this is Voldemort we're talking about. Any kind of barrier he put up will most likely be Dark Magic."

Harry nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that. What did you get?"

Hermione grimaced. "Nasty sounding stuff. You'll see when it arrives." She bit her lip. "I hate to be a pessimist, Harry, but . . . you should be prepared for the unexpected. Voldemort could have put up protections that no book can help you with. Things that people might not even know exist. He may be evil, but he's also a genius. I wouldn't be surprised if he invented some of his own spells,

like-"

Hermione immediately stopped talking and looked down. Harry knew she was about to say "like Snape." His jaw clenched.

"Yeah, well . . . like Master, like Death Eater," he spat.

Hermione started playing with a piece of fuzz on Ron's bed covers. "Did you see the Prophet a couple weeks ago?"

Harry thought back. "Er . . . "

"It was the one that came out the same day that Snape appeared in the Muggle paper."

Harry shook his head. "No. Didn't bother . . . just the same old junk."

Hermione gasped. "Then you don't know! Harry, they put- Hold on, I'll be right back! I kept it. Historical purposes, you know."

Harry blinked and stared after her as she ran out the door. She returned moments later clutching something in her hands. "I can't believe you didn't read . . . " she was muttering. Sitting back down on the bed, she handed the paper to Harry. "They released his Ministry record, Harry," she explained in a small voice. "They hadn't done so before, during the first war, because he had turned spy and Dumbledore spoke for him. It was part of the terms Dumbledore and the Ministry set up. But now . . . well . . . "

Harry stared at the piece of paper that held the article detailing Snape's activities as a Death Eater, outlined in a confession written by Snape himself. In it, he freely admitted to the capture and torture of "dozens" of Muggles and Muggle-borns, saying he and a number of other Voldemort supporters terrorized them by the means of the _Cruciatus_ curse, and by Legilimency. _"I forced my way into their minds, making them relieve their worst and most terrifying memories over and over again," _Snape's confessional read. Harry felt sick. _He's like a Dementor_, he thought, angrily. He also admitted to brewing a number of deadly and gruesome potions at Voldemort's command, including one that sounded like it turned the drinker inside-out upon consumption. And then the part Harry had been looking for: murders. Once Harry had seen Snape kill Dumbledore, saw him make his allegiance with Voldemort known, he knew, somewhere deep down, that Snape had done it before. He was a Death Eater. And you can't stay a Death Eater as long as Snape had and not have killed anyone. Voldemort himself had committed too many murders to even count. Only five names were listed, however: an unknown Muggle that he had killed to prove himself to Voldemort and receive his Mark, and four names that Harry immediately recognized. One, of course, was Albus Dumbledore. Seeing it in words seemed to make it even worse, and pain and anger rolled over Harry in waves. The others...

"Mrs. Weasley was devastated," Hermione said quietly. "No one had ever known who else had . . . they were her brothers, you know. And Dumbledore had kept it a secret . . . "

Harry blanched as he read two names: Gideon Prewett and Fabian Prewett.

"He was . . . Snape was one of the five Death Eaters that killed them?" he asked, horrified. "Who were the others?"

Hermione nodded to the article. Snape's confession also pointed blame on Antonin Dolohov and Lucius Malfoy, but he said that he had not known the identity of the other two assigned to the "mission" of the Prewett murders. _"We did not know who our fellow Death Eaters were most of the time,"_ it read. _"Our identities were kept secret from each other . . . we were always to appear before him masked. I was fortunate enough to recognize some of them." _Harry remembered reading in his fifth year that Dolohov had been sent to Azkaban for the murders, but Lucius Malfoy had walked free due to the claim of being under the Imperious Curse.

"Well," said Harry, "I guess that's kind of good news. The two of them are in Azkaban now. . . On second thought, I guess it doesn't make a damn bit of difference, does it? God, and she offered to make him dinner!"

Hermione nodded. "She feels horribly guilty."

"What! Why should she feel guilty? She didn't know! And _him_," Harry yelled angrily. "How he could just sit there, in all those Order meetings . . . teach classes to her children . . . knowing what he did . . . " Something in the corner of Ron's room exploded. Harry and Hermione both jumped. Harry felt his face getting hot. It had been a long time since he lost control like that. "Why didn't Dumbledore . . . I mean, he . . . " Harry didn't know what felt worse: knowing that Snape had killed two members of the family he'd come to think of as his own, or the fact that Dumbledore had kept it not only from Mrs. Weasley, but the entire Wizarding population. "That doesn't seem like Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded. "I know . . . part of me doesn't know what to think, either. But . . . it was part of the terms. Dumbledore promised that Snape would receive a full pardon for turning spy, and that included not letting the Ministry print his record. He probably just didn't want to hurt Mrs. Weasley . . . or Bill, Charlie, and Percy either. They were all alive when it happened. Percy was only four, I think, so he doesn't remember them too well, but Bill and Charlie... Bill said they were the coolest uncles. He was very angry. So was Charlie. And you know how easy going they are. Keep reading. There's, er . . . there's one more."

Harry was beginning to wonder why Hermione hadn't just told him the whole bloody thing instead of making him read it, but he turned back to the article anyway and read the final name:

_Regulus Black._

Regulus Black . . . Sirius' brother . . .

Harry remembered Sirius' words when he had asked about the name next to his on the tapestry in Grimmauld Place: _He was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more like, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out._

"Son of a bitch," Harry muttered before he could stop himself. "His brother. Regulus was Sirius' little brother." Hermione said nothing. If she was offended at all from his colorful outburst, she made no mention of it.

Harry was resisting the sudden upsurge of anger that would surely make something explode again. Voldemort was the cause for everything... all the devastation, sadness, anger, hate, death. Voldemort and Snape. _My parents are dead because of Snape, Wormtail and Voldemort_, he thought, seething. _The Longbottoms . . . tortured till they were crazy because of Voldemort and nut-jobs like Bellatrix Lestrange . . . Mrs. Weasley's brothers are dead because of Snape and Malfoy and . . . GOD DAMMIT!_

Hermione jumped, and Harry realized he must have shouted that last part out. _Brilliant. Now I'm thinking out loud?_

"All of this - all of it - it's just so _pointless_!" Harry yelled, curling the article from the Prophet into a ball and hurling it across the room. He slumped down onto Ron's bed, his face buried in the pillow. When he turned around to face Hermione again, he mumbled, "He didn't like him."

Hermione shot him an odd look. "What?"

Harry sighed. "Regulus. From what it sounded like, he and Sirius didn't get along too well."

Hermione sniffed. "Well, from what we saw of his house and those portraits..."

"He didn't like him. But... but he was still his brother. I'm sure it had hurt. He didn't want him dead. And Snape had the gall to get angry when Sirius called him Snivellus that day in the kitchen." He realized Hermione had no idea what he was talking about, but he didn't care. This was just beyond his ability to fathom. Snape had killed his godfather's brother. Snape had been in the Black's house... had _taunted_ Sirius about having to stay there and help clean...

_What if it had been Dudley?_ Harry thought. His cousin had been nothing but a bully and tormentor for ten years. He hated him. But if anything had ever happened to him . . . if Voldemort swooped down on Privet Drive tomorrow and murdered everyone inside, he would care. He'd feel sad and he'd feel guilty. And he'd want to hurt the people responsible, no matter what the Dursley's had done to him. They were still his family. He knew that's what Sirius would have felt about Regulus.

_And Dumbledore kept it secret. He kept Snape safe._ Harry felt another upsurge of anger, but this time it was directed at his former mentor. Once he realized it he felt sickened. _He thought Snape was reformed_, he argued with himself. _He thought he was on our side. It had been part of the deal._

_Deal? You don't make deals with people like that!_ his mind argued back.

_He thought he was on our side_, Harry repeated to himself firmly. _He thought Snape was out there, risking his life every day for the Order! He probably thought he ought to repay him or something._

_By keeping Regulus' murderer safe? By not telling Sirius and Mrs. Weasley, who had the right to know, who killed their brothers?_ that little voice argued back, snarkily.

Snarkily? He was beginning to sound like...

Harry immediately shut off the argument in his head and repressed a shudder. He felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"No," he answered, sitting up. "But it'll do, I guess." He gave her a small smile, which she returned. But then she frowned, a guilty look in her eyes.

"I probably should have warned you," she began, but Harry waved her off.

"You didn't have one, either," he pointed out. "The owl just dropped it off and went on its merry way, you know?"

Hermione actually laughed at that. They sat in silence for a while, both absorbed in their own thoughts. The sound of whooping and a crash from downstairs broke them out of their reverie, however. Harry grinned.

"Ron's back."

They rushed down the stairs and back into the kitchen. Ron was doing a sort of victory cheer, while Charlie leaned against the counter, shaking his head and smiling. Harry grinned back.

"I take it you passed your test?" he asked Ron, who whirled around in surprise.

"Harry! I didn't even hear you two come down!" he exclaimed, bounding over to greet them. "And, _yes_, I passed my test! Eyebrows and all!" He wiggled them at Harry and Hermione as proof, which, for some odd reason, made Hermione go a bit pink.

"That's great, Ron!" she said.

Harry congratulated him as well, as Charlie excused himself and headed into the back garden. Ron asked about Harry's stay with the Dursley's as he rummaged around for something to eat, and Harry started to tell the both of them of the boredom that was Privet Drive when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Without even bothering to turn around, he recognized who they belonged to and his heart gave a small lurch. "Hey, Ginny," he said softly as she came up beside him.

He turned to face her then. Her long, red hair was pulled back into a loose pony-tail, her bangs in her eyes, which were looking anywhere but at him. "Hello, Harry," she said back, giving him a half-smile. Harry could tell that both Ron and Hermione were watching them earnestly. "How was your trip?"

Harry laughed. "All ten seconds of it? Fantastic. You know I love feeling like I've gotten stuck in a tire."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and Harry could see then that they looked a bit red. _It's because I'm here_, he thought, sadly. _I bet she's been okay up until today._

Hermione had started badgering Ron about his test, which gave Harry an opportunity to ask, quietly, "How are you?"

Ginny looked blankly back at him. "Our house has been Phlegm-ified."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I saw. I meant-"

She sighed. "I know what you meant."

Harry opened his mouth, and then, realizing he couldn't think of anything to say back to that, shut it again. He couldn't stand to see her look so . . . distant. Not sad, really, more . . .

_Lonely_, Harry realized, because he was feeling the same way. He resisted the urge to grab her, hold her, cry into her shoulder until he couldn't cry anymore, and tell her all the things he couldn't tell anyone else . . . to tell her how he really felt about her . . . to tell her what he'd realized since he'd been away . . .

"Harry," she began, and he looked at her, hopefully. "I...I need to go back upstairs," she finished, glumly.

His heart sank, and then he chastised himself. _You broke up with her, idiot_, he thought. _Now you're looking at her like you want her to propose or something! You're confusing the hell out of her!_

"I'm confusing the hell out of myself," he muttered, absent-mindedly.

"What?" Ron asked, mouth full of chicken. Both he and Hermione were staring at him.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

"Oh. Where'd Ginny go? She didn't even tell me 'congratulations'."

Hermione gave him a look that clearly said he was being ridiculously unsympathetic. "She said she had to go back upstairs," Harry said. He sighed. "I knew this wasn't going to be easy."

He figured that Ginny had filled Hermione in at least about what had transpired after Dumbledore's funeral. Ron, it seemed, just knew that they were no longer seeing each other. He shot him a weird look, and then went back to eating his chicken. _This is why you don't date your best mate's sister, because if you break her heart, her brother won't know whose side to be on,_ Harry thought, ruefully.

"Listen, mate," Ron began, "whatever happened between you and Ginny is between you and Ginny. I just . . . I thought you were happy."

Harry scowled in spite of himself. "I was."

"Well, then-"

"I thought you said it was between me and Ginny," Harry snapped. Ron's ears went red.

"It is. But, she _is_ my sister."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "I know. Look . . . just think for a moment about who I am, exactly. That's why I can't be with Ginny." _No matter how much I want to._

Ron stared blankly. "You're Harry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. The one Voldemort will stop at nothing to destroy."

"Well, yeah, but . . ." he gestured wildly. "Who cares? You're not 'breaking up' with me and Hermione, are you? We're your friends. We know about the horcruxes," he said quietly. "If You-Know-Who . . . if Voldemort . . . is going to come after anybody, it'd be us."

"Don't you think I know that!" yelled Harry, making the two of them jump. He wasn't remotely sorry. "I think about it every day! I don't know what I would do if you two got hurt or- or worse. Dumbledore's gone. There's five horcruxes out there that I've somehow got to destroy. I just... I just don't know what to do."

A noise from outside made them remember where they were. "Um, maybe we should talk upstairs?" Hermione suggested.

"Right," agreed Ron, and Harry nodded. With a crack, Ron disappeared. Hermione scowled.

"You know, I really thought he was going to be a grown-up about this," she said as the two of them trudged back up the stairs. Even though she'd never admit it, Harry could tell she was trying not to smile.

Ron was laying in his bed waiting for them. "What took you so long?" he said, grinning, as Harry joined him and Hermione shut the door.

"Unlike some people," Hermione said, scathingly, "I don't feel the need to Apparate every five minutes. And Harry can't yet, remember?"

"True," said Ron. "You should really get down to the Ministry some time before your birthday and make an appointment."

Harry could tell he was trying to change the subject and part of him was relieved. The other part, the part that wanted alternatively to scream in fury and agony at the top of his lungs and huddle in the corner and cry like a five-year-old, was begging him to talk to his friends. "I'm afraid," he said, finally.

Hermione came and put her arm around him. "We know, Harry. We're scared, too."

"It's just... what happened to worrying about if someone was going to catch us brewing Polyjuice Potion? Or finding a meeting place for the DA? Or whether we passed our OWLs? Now we have to worry about the war and whether or not we're all going to be alive tomorrow," Harry said, almost in a whisper. "When did it all change? How did it get to be like _this_?"

Hermione motioned for Ron to scoot over, and she sat down on the other side, so that Harry was in the middle of his two friends. "I don't know," she said, pulling him close. "But we just have to keep on going, like everything's going to be okay. Because it _will_ be okay, Harry."

Harry gripped the locket around his neck. "Yeah . . . but how long before that's actually true?"

As he put his head on Hermione's shoulder, Ron put his arm around both him and Hermione, and the three of them sat huddled there together on Ron's bed, in no hurry to return to the world which had suddenly become so chaotic.

* * *

The wedding was to be held at midday in the field behind the Burrow that Harry, Ron, Fred and George used to play Quidditch in. Harry woke up at around seven due to another nightmare. He had been back in the cave, only he had been watching the scene instead of taking part in it. In place of Harry had been Snape, and Harry had watched as Snape forced Dumbledore to drink goblet after goblet of that horrible potion. But it had looked like Snape didn't want to do it. He kept pleading, saying, "I can't, I can't, don't make me do this." But Dumbledore just kept muttering, "You promised..." And then they were back on the Astronomy Tower, and Dumbledore was speaking and the Death Eaters were jeering, and Harry was once again powerless to stop it. 

"_Severus . . . please . . ."_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

He had woken with a jerk, his face wet with tears. He sat in his bed until his breathing had returned to normal, checked to make sure his nightmare hadn't woken Ron, and then headed downstairs. _No use trying to get back to sleep now_, he thought, angrily.

He arrived in the kitchen and saw that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, and Ginny were already awake. There was someone else in the kitchen with them, but Harry didn't recognize who it was. _Must be a wedding guest_, he thought. He made brief eye-contact with Ginny, but she quickly turned away and became very interested in her eggs and toast. Harry sighed.

"Good morning, Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley said, tiredly but cheerfully. "What would you like for breakfast?"

Harry shrugged. "Just toast would be great, thank you." He sat down next to the stranger and turned to introduce himself when he realized with a jolt that it was Bill. He still had the long hair pulled back in a ponytail and the dragon-tooth earring, but his face... Greyback had taken most of Bill's good looks. There were horrible scars running down his face, and Harry thought his eyes looked a bit different. He remembered that Madam Pomfrey had said that he might take on some wolfish features due to the attack. He grinned at Harry, and the "wolfishness" became even more pronounced.

"Hey, Harry," he greeted him. Harry tried very hard not to stare or look sad. Bill laughed. "I know. I look like complete hell. But thanks for not mentioning it." He winked.

Harry smiled back and tried to make it look convincing. "Big day today. Nervous?"

Bill shrugged. "Nah. She loves me, even if I have this ugly mugg. I don't think I have anything to worry about."

Harry laughed. "I see Greyback didn't manage to ruin your sense of humor."

Bill's eyes hardened a little at the mention of that name. "Never," he said, firmly. "You can't let it affect you, you know?"

_I know how that feels_, Harry thought as Mrs. Weasley put a plate in front of him full of not only toast, but pancakes, sausage, and bacon. Bill raised his eyebrows.

"Funny... usually when I ask for toast I just get toast. And usually I have to make it myself."

Harry grinned and poured himself some orange juice.

"You're up early, Harry," Mr. Weasley said from the other side of the table.

Harry, mouthful of sausage, swallowed quickly and answered: "Yeah... rough night."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged glances. Harry shook his head. "No, no nothing like _that_," he assured them, figuring they were thinking about the dreams that had plagued him all through his fifth year. "No Voldemort in my head, no snakes. Honest."

Mr. Weasley nodded, but Mrs. Weasley still looked worried. "Well... I'm sure it must be hard on you, dear. After everything that's happened. Nightmares are to be expected."

Harry felt his face getting hot and saw Mr. Weasley send his wife an admonishing look. "Not now, Molly," he said to her, softly.

"What was it about?" Ginny asked, suddenly, surprising him. Mrs. Weasley looked horrified.

"Ginevra Weasley!" she began. "Don't ask him-"

"Snape," Harry answered, flatly. Everyone turned to stare at him. "It wasn't a nightmare, really... well, the first dream wasn't. That one was just annoying." Everyone continued to stare at him and he realized he wasn't making much sense. "I had a dream about Snape a few weeks ago . . . the day he appeared in the Muggle paper, actually. He had the . . . um . . . he had something I wanted. Something I needed. And I couldn't get it and it was really frustrating. Then I had another right before I woke up . . ." he trailed off, not wanting to have to try and explain that one. "It was, um, odd," he finished, lamely.

"Do you think it might be You-Know-Who again, Dad?" Charlie asked, but Harry shook his head.

"My scar doesn't hurt," he said, simply. "And Dumbledore told me beginning of last year that Voldemort was using Occlumency against me. I can't even feel him when he's angry or happy anymore. Which, in a way, isn't necessarily a good thing. At least when I was getting some of his feelings, we kind of had an idea that something was about to happen."

"Occlumency," Mr. Weasley whispered, softly. It seemed he was speaking more to himself than everyone else. But then he said, more loudly, "You said these two dreams involved Snape?" Harry nodded. "Perhaps it's not Voldemort who's sending you these dreams, Harry. We know how powerful Snape is." The room tensed. "Then again," Mr. Weasley added, "they could be just that. Dreams."

Harry hoped to God it was the latter. The thought that Snape was invading his mind was somehow worse than when Voldemort was doing it. At least then, it was sort of out of Harry's control. He and Voldemort had an unexplained link. But Snape was someone that Harry could ward himself against. Someone he should be able to keep out. He didn't want to think about it. Luckily, a distraction arrived. A very loud distraction.

"What the devil _is_ that?" Bill asked, loudly, covering his ears. The rest of the kitchen had done the same, shielding themselves against the sudden tumult of what sounded like a brass marching band. The Weasley parents rolled their eyes.

"They're early!" shouted Mr. Weasley. "I knew there was a reason they said they didn't want to arrive last night!"

Harry stared, confused, until he saw that Mrs. Weasley was glaring out the nearest window. He turned his gaze to follow hers and saw, to his great surprise, that the noise _was_ coming from a marching band. Well... the instruments, at least. Harry could see no sign of an actual band.

"Those sneaky little liars!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, but there was a touch of amusement in her voice. "They told us they'd get here an hour before the ceremony!"

Harry realized imeadiately who they were talking about. He grinned and ran to the window, followed closely by Ginny, and saw, with no amount of surprise this time, the floating instruments being lead and conducted by twins Fred and George.

"Aw, they got me a present," Bill said, barely heard over the noise. "They really shouldn't have."

Harry laughed. "Well, now you know why they're early."

Charlie grimaced and pushed his hands to his ears harder. "For God's sake, Bill, go tell them 'thanks' so they'll turn it the hell off!"

Bill shot him a look. "I'm the groom! I shouldn't have to do anything today. Besides," he added, grinning wolfishly at his brother. "It wouldn't be polite to tell them I didn't like their gift."

Charlie looked at him murderously. Bill sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you and your sensitive ears. For someone who works with _roaring dragons_ for a living, you're a bit of a whiner!" he shouted over the noise, but ran to the door anyway, barely missing a potted plant that Charlie had sent flying at him. He went outside and closed the door. Harry could barely hear muffled voices coming from the outside. One sounded like Bill, and then another, sounding vaguely insulted, that was either Fred or George. Suddenly there was a loud yelp, followed by crashing noises. Harry, Ginny, Charlie, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all ran outside. Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud at the scene before them. It looked as though Bill had tried to grab George's wand, which he had been using has a conductor's baton, and the instruments had retaliated. Bill was running around the front yard while a par of symbols chased him, crashing together above his head. Charlie and Ginny were both doubled over in hysterics. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rolled their eyes, and with an air that said they were quite used to this sort of thing, pulled out their wands and yelled, "_Finite Incantatum!"_ The instruments all fell lifelessly to the ground. Fred and George whirled on the spot and gave their parents a reprimanding look that didn't quite meet their eyes.

"Now, see here, you can't just go around destroying people's wedding gifts!" Fred said with a false look of annoyance.

"What, exactly, was the present?" Bill asked, angrily, shooting the fallen symbols a filthy look. "Deafness?"

Charlie and Ginny were still on the ground laughing. Mrs. Weasley sighed and began trying to pull them up. "Thanks for the help, you two." She glared at the twins. "What a fine thing to do! You've probably woken up Ron and Hermione, and half the countryside as well! I really thought we'd seen the end of this rubbish once you two moved out of the house. As if we don't have enough to do today!"

"Oh, we didn't mean to wake up poor ickle Ronnikins," George said. Fred made gagging noises behind him. "I'm sure the future Head Boy needs his beauty sleep." He winked at Harry. Mrs. Weasley's glare darkened. The twins sighed.

"Fine," they said, exhasperatedly. They waved their wands and the instruments disappeared. Then they turned to Bill and pounced on him in a humungous hug. "Congratulations, big brother!" they shouted, ruffling his hair out of his ponytail. Then they turned to the rest of the family, and Fred said, with mock surprise, "Oh, Mum, Dad! Didn't see you there! How are you this morning? Lovely day to marry a part Veela, wouldn't you say?"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley just gave each other knowing looks and told them to go inside. Fred and George obliged, and were followed by Ginny, a now hiccuping Charlie, and a still grumbling Bill. Harry shrugged at the remaining Weasleys. "At least everyone's tongue is still the same length," he said, grinning. "Besides, it wouldn't be a wedding without Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "No. It wouldn't be a wedding in _our_ family without Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

* * *

At around 11:30, the guests started to arrive and were lead to the field by Charlie and Mr. Weasley. It was mainly a family event, and for good reason - Fleur's family would, of course, be traveling from France. Due to the dangers the war with Voldemort now presented, they would not be taking a direct Apparition route, but instead Apparating to different points along the way, as to cover their trails, as was the extended Weasley family. When Harry had asked why they were going about it that way, he had been unnerved when Hermione informed him that Apparition could be tracked. This was going to make keeping his hunt for the horcruxes a secret a more difficult. 

"How do you think the Ministry knows when someone is Apparating without a license, Harry?" she had asked, exhasperatedly. She was being more snippy than usual, and had hardly been seen all morning._ It took her three hours to get ready for the Yule Ball_, Harry reminded himself. _If that's how long she takes to get ready for a dance . . . _Ron echoed his sentiments.

"I doubt we'll ever see her again," he said with a mock sigh.

At a quarter to twelve, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George started making their way to the ceremony, the twins in their dragon-hide suites, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione in their dress robes. It was very hot and sticky out, and Harry began to wish he had been one of those guys who wore cologne. Ron didn't seem to mind, however, and Harry was sure that his friend was enjoying finally being able to show off a decent set of dress robes, which were a dark blue to match his eyes. Hermione looked as beautiful as she had at the Yule Ball, in her new dress robes of light pink, and her hair straightened and pulled back in a long braid down her back. Harry noticed that Ron kept glancing at her as they walked up the hill, and that he kept trying to smooth wrinkles that weren't there out of his robes. Harry sighed.

"What?" Ron asked, turning to look at him. Harry gave him a half-smile.

"Nothing, just . . . when are you going to wake up?" he asked.

Ron frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Harry very much wanted to say "About Hermione, you idiot!", but they arrived in the field before he had the chance. Plus, he didn't think such a blunt remark would go over very well. The field, unlike the Burrow, had not been decorated at all, and the guests had formed a circle around what looked like an altar. It was surrounded by a flowered arch, and had three candles upon it: a large one in the middle, and a smaller one on either side. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances; neither had ever been to a wedding in the magical world and weren't exactly sure what to do. But Ron, Fred, and George all joined the circle, which had widened to create a space for them, so, giving Hermione a shrug, Harry followed suite, taking the place next to George. Hermione did as well, and took the place between Ron and a very large, intimidating red-haired woman. Ron gave a small shudder and mouthed at Harry: _Aunt Tessy_. Harry bit down on his lip to keep from laughing. Hermione shot them both admonishing glares. There was a man behind the altar who wore dress robes of deep purple. He looked very old indeed, and seemed rather bored. Bill was standing with him, only in front of the altar. He was barefoot, and his hair had been taken out of his pony tail. He wore long dress robes of white and gold. The older man cleared his throat, and began:

"We gather here today, in the presence of nature, the elements, and family, to join Willem Arthur Weasley to Fleur Marjorie DeLacour in marriage by the ceremony of hand fasting."

Suddenly, some of the guests made a gap in the circle, and Mr. Weasley, dressed in white, passed through it, holding what looked like a wooden bowl filled with water. Next, came Charlie, also in white and who also held a wooden bowl, which contained a lit candle. After Charlie . . .

Harry's breath caught in his throat. _Oh, my god_, he thought, his heart beginning to beat faster. _She looks gorgeous_.

Ginny had followed her brother into the circle, wearing flowing, gold dress robes that came off her shoulders. Her red hair was down and wavy, framing her face. There were white and yellow flowers in it. She was barefoot, like Bill, Mr. Weasley, and Charlie, and also carried a bowl, but Harry couldn't see what was inside. He figured it was some sort of incense, because the smell of roses and ginger wafted by him as Ginny made her way into the center of the circle. Fleur's sister Gabrielle, also dressed in the same golden robes as Ginny, followed, and held a bowl filled with soil. Everyone turned their head in anticipation of the last to enter, and were not disappointed. Fleur stepped into the circle, the color of her robes matching that of her husband-to-be, but cut in the same style as the other two girls. She had asilver tiaraon her head, her long, wispy blond hair blowing behind her as if caught in an invisible wind. Harry glanced at Ron, and was surprised to see that he didn't look at all embarrassed or put off. _Must have finally gotten used to her_, thought Harry. She smiled at Bill as she made her way toward the altar. The circle closed again, and everyone remained perfectly still and silent. The old man began again:

"I humbly call forth the elements of life."

Mr. Weasley stepped forward, holding his bowl above his head, and said, "Hear me, powers of water. Bless this couple, and wash them in a richness of body, soul, and spirit." He then walked toward the eastern part of the circle, placing the bowl on the ground, and then took a place inside the circle.

Charlie was next. He stepped forward, held his bowl above his head, and said, "Hear me, powers of fire. Ignite within this pair passion and love." Charlie placed his bowl in the southern part of the circle and joined it as well.

Then Ginny stepped forward. Holding her bowl above her head, she said, "Hear me, powers of air. Weave tight the bonds of heart, spirit, and love between Bill and Fleur, and let no one undo the fabric of their love." She glanced at Harry before turning and placing the bowl at the western part of the circle, and then taking her place inside of it.

Last was Gabrielle. She had grown up quite a bit since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and now resembled a miniature version of her older sister. She held her bowl above her head, and said, "Hear me, powerz of ze earth. Bless zis man and woman with your strength and wizdom." Then she turned, placed her bowl at the northern part of the circle, and then also took her place inside of it. Now there were no more gaps, and the circle was complete.

The older man turned now to regard Bill and Fleur. "We gather here on this blessed day in a ritual of love. Fleur and Willem stand here before their family, friends, and nature to join themselves and their families together. Willem, what do you offer to Fleur?"

Bill took Fleur's hand in his, smiling brightly. "I offer her my love, and I pledge to never knowingly or willingly cause her harm or grief in any form."

The priest then turned to regard Fleur. "Fleur, what do you offer in exchange?"

"I offer him my love, and zis pledge also: That I may never knowingly or willingly cause him 'arm or grief in any form," she answered. Bill squeezed her hand.

The older man then held up two rings. "Your vows have now been heard by all. Like your vows, these rings know no beginning, and no end." He handed one to Bill, and the other to Fleur. They took each took their turn placing it on the other's finger. Then, taking out their wands, they each lit one of the smaller candles on the altar. Fleur took her candle, and Bill took his, and they both lit the candle in the center. The old man smiled and gestured to the circle.

"I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Willem Weasley."

The circle applauded and then laughed as Bill took Fleur in a low dip and kissed her. _They look so happy_, Harry thought, as the circle broke and began making their way toward the couple, offering their congratulations.

"That was very interesting," said Hermione, coming to stand next to him. "I've never been to a hand fasting before."

"I think my parents must have had a traditional Muggle wedding," Harry mused out loud. "My dad only had one best man and it was Sirius. And I think they wore suits." Harry laughed inwardly at the thought of Sirius in a suit. Thinking of his parents wedding made him remember something else as well.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you when I got here," he began, but was cut short by Ron's hurried, "Look out!" as he all but ran by Harry and toward his oldest brother. It seemed he was trying to escape the large woman known as Aunt Tessy.

They spent the rest of the afternoon giving congratulations to Bill and Fleur and mingling with the other guests. Fleur's mother and father were there of course, and also a great many aunts, uncles, and cousins. Some of Mrs. Weasley's family, the Prewetts, were there, as well as almost every relation of Mr. Weasleys. All, Harry noticed, but one.

"Er . . . Ron? Where's Percy?"

Ron's face darkened. "Not here, obviously," he said, shortly. His ears had gone red.

"Are you serious? I can't believe he's still being so stupid! He was at Dumbledore's funeral, I thought he would have talked to your parents . . . " Harry trailed off as he realized this was not helping Ron's mood.

Hermione had gone off to talk with Ginny, and Harry had not dared ventured over to the two girls to retrieve her. Ron was staring at the two of them.

"I still don't understand you," he said. Harry looked at him.

"What are you talking about?"

Ron gave him a pointed look. Harry scowled.

"No offense or anything, but you're not exactly the right person to be giving me 'love advice', considering you spent the better half of last year sucking face with-"

"I think they're starting lunch now," Ron interrupted, blushing furiously. He took off toward the house. Harry shook his head and glanced back over at the two girls to find that Hermione had gone and Ginny was walking toward him. Harry blanched.

_Oh no oh no oh no . . . _

"Hey, Harry," she greeted him, brushing her hair out of her face.

Harry gulped. "Hey," he croaked out. _Oh my GOD! I sound like Umbridge._ "You look . . . you look amazing, Ginny. Really."

She grinned. "Yeah? It's a right side better than a Quidditch uniform, I guess."

Harry laughed. "I'd like to see you try and Chase wearing that."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow, and the two of them began walking back to the Burrow. "Are you trying to lure me into a bet, Mr. Potter?"

"Er . . . I think I'll leave the gambling to Ludo Bagman. Besides, I know you'll fly better than ever just to spite me, and take all my money."

It felt like old times. Harry was beginning to feel comfortable around her again, when her eyes widened. "Uh, oh."

"What?" Harry asked, but was hugged from behind. He let out a yelp and turned to see the infamous great-Aunt Tessy. Behind him, Ginny was giggling hysterically.

"Now where do you think you're going?" she asked. "You're not leaving without a dance, Harry Potter." She gave him a twirl.

"Um . . . no music . . . " he began, but was hauled off across the field. Ginny waved, still laughing, and ran down the hill back toward the reception.

* * *

Harry spent his time at the Burrow studying out of the books Hermione had brought him, taking notes, filing away anything he, Ron, and Hermione thought was useful information. The books that Hermione had ordered from Knockturn Alley had arrived later the same week that Harry had. Being of age, Ron and Hermione had even started practicing some of the protective spells, mainly in the backyard. Harry, however, was still confined to theory and wand movements. Hermione was very proud of his resilience, and said she'd never seen him work so hard. In truth, Harry would have liked nothing better than to toss the books outside, grab his Firebolt, and go out into the field and play Quidditch. But there had been a supreme change wrought in Harry after the events in June. It was all up to him now; Dumbledore had been injured, and then died while searching for the horcruxes, and Harry knew he would never be as powerful or brilliant as Dumbledore, at least not in this short span of time. Probably not ever. But he had to do what he could. Besides, this wasn't like doing homework; he didn't need to study for exams or for a grade. He needed this to survive. 

About a week before Harry's birthday - Ron in the middle of his daily teasing about how Harry was slowly turning into a male Hermione - the Daily Prophet arrived and announced that Hogwarts would indeed be reopening.

"I bet you half of the students won't be coming back," Ron said. "Remember those idiotic parents last year, taking them out halfway through? Even with Dumbledore gone, Hogwarts is probably the safest place. They've probably destroyed that Vanishing Cabinet . . . "

Hermione bit her lip. "When our booklists arrive, Harry, you should think about getting them anyway. There'll be more spells and things that you can learn."

Ron stared at her. "What do you mean, when our booklists arrive? We're going with, Harry, remember?"

Harry tried to tune them out and went back to focusing on his book. He was trying to get the wand movement down for a slicing hex, much to Hermione's disapproval._ I have to learn to defend myself, Hermione, _he had told her. _And that might have to include some spells that we wouldn't normally think about using._

"We said we'd help him, Ron," Hermione argued. "But . . . I don't know if I'm ready to give up my education . . . "

"Oh, bloody hell!" Ron yelled. "This is about the war with Voldemort, Hermione! This is about Harry! Our best friend!"

"I know that!" Hermione snapped back. "I said I didn't know! My parents weren't happy when I left . . . "

Ron grumbled something that Harry couldn't hear. The truth was, he didn't know whether he wanted his friends to sacrifice their last year at Hogwarts either. He didn't want to be the cause of that kind of decision. Hermione was getting ready to say something snippy back, so Harry quickly changed the subject.

"Where did Bill and Fleur go on their honeymoon again?" he asked, waving his wand in the air in imitation of the book's diagram.

Ron and Hermione both looked at him as if they forget he was there. "Oh, er . . . Canada, I think. Fleur's got some relatives there, second cousins or something. I'm surprised they even went on a honeymoon."

"It's going to be short, though, right? Shouldn't they be back soon?" Harry ran a hand through his hair tiredly.

Ron gave him an odd look. "You know . . . you're in a wizarding house now, mate. If you, er, you know . . . wanted to get in some real practicing . . . "

"_Ron_," warned Hermione.

"What? The Ministry wouldn't be able to tell, they leave it to the parents to make sure their kids aren't doing magic. Go on, Harry, you look horrible. Look at your eyes! Those books are going to give you brain damage or something."

Hermione snorted. Harry was very tempted to follow Ron's suggestion.

"Well . . . I do need to start practicing nonverbal spells," he said.

"No, Harry," Hermione said, firmly. "It's against the law."

"Oh, who cares?" asked Ron. "Hermione, he doesn't have time for this! Remember what Snape said before he ran off-" Ron stopped talking imeadiately after seeing the look on Harry's face. "I, er, I just meant-"

"About how I need to close my mind and keep my mouth shut?" Harry snapped.

"Well . . . yeah," Ron said, softly.

Harry sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, Ron - and Snape - had a point. _Damn Snape, anyway_, Harry thought, vehemently.

"Look, I agree with you, Ron. I really do," Hermione said. "But, Harry also doesn't need the Ministry anymore involved than they already are. If there's even the slightest chance that they might be able to detect Harry using magic, it will mean another hearing, or perhaps something more severe."

"I doubt it," Harry interjected. "Scrimgeour wants me to be his Ministry poster boy, remember?" He sighed and rubbed his temples. _I want to sleeeeeeeep._

"Scrimgeour's not above the law, Harry," Hermione reminded him with an air of finality about the subject. Ron huffed and stared out the window. It was a beautiful day outside.

"Who do you think they'll get to be Quidditch captain since you're leaving?" he asked. Hermione made a huffing noise of her own, and muttered something about boys and Quidditch.

Harry had an idea who they would be picking, but didn't voice it out loud, because it would just spawn a different kind of discussion that he really didn't want to get into at the moment.

"What was that thing you wanted to tell us about, Harry?" Hermione asked, suddenly.

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

"Oh, yeah!" Ron exclaimed, turning to face the other two. "About your mum and dad's wedding?"

Harry stared. "Where did that come from?"

"Well, you mentioned Bill and Fleur's honeymoon and it just reminded me," Hermione said.

"Oh, um . . . " Harry began, shutting his book. "Yeah, it was really weird. That day that Snape was in the Muggle paper, my Aunt recognized him."

Both Hermione and Ron's eyes widened.

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, she seemed to really understand what Dumbledore being dead meant, but she was, like, I dunno _surprised_ that Snape was the one to do it," Harry continued.

Ron made a face. "Why?"

"She said . . . she said that she recognized him because . . . well, because he was at my parents wedding."

Hermione gasped and Ron's mouth fell open. "No way!" he exclaimed. "Why would he . . .?"

Harry shrugged. "That's just it. I don't know. She says he wasn't invited. He just sort of showed up wanting to talk to my mum."

Hermione was looking at him very strangely. "He wanted to see your mother?"

"Yeah, that's what Aunt Petunia said. She said he was greasy and rude, so I don't doubt it was him. Er . . . she said from what she could hear he was trying to talk her out of marrying my dad." He shrugged again. "That's all. Weird, huh?"

Ron was shaking his head, but Hermione still had that odd look on her face. "That doesn't make any sense."

"That's what I said," Harry assured her. "But Aunt Petunia didn't say anything else about it, so I don't see what the big deal is. I just thought you guys would like to know about it, you know?"

There was a pause before Hermione blurted out: "You need to go back to your aunt and uncle's, Harry."

"_What?_" Harry asked her, incredulously. "Are you mad? I'm never setting foot in that house again!"

"Yeah, what gives, Hermione?" Ron demanded.

She sighed. "Don't you think Snape showing up at your parents wedding is a bit . . . odd?"

Harry threw up his hands. "Well, yeah, but-"

"From everything we've heard about Snape, he hated your father. And Sirius. All of them, actually. So, why would he show up at a place where all four Marauders would be? And why would he be there to talk to your mum?"

"I told you, Aunt Petunia said he was trying to talk her out of marrying-"

"Yes, but _why_? Why would he bother?" Hermione asked him.

"Uh, because he's a wanker?" Ron said, sarcastically. Hermione ignored him.

"Beats me, and frankly, I really could care less," Harry said. "Look, I only told you because you're my friends and I knew you'd think it was about as crazy as I do."

"It might be important," Hermione pressed.

"How?" Ron asked. "Voldemort's not going to be quizzing Harry on proper wedding etiquette, Hermione."

She glared at him. "In case you forgot, Harry's going to have to face Snape as well, sooner or later. And him showing up at his parents wedding is not only odd, but something that I don't think we should overlook. It's insight into his past, Harry. Other than that book, and those little things you saw during your Occlumency training, it's all you've got."

"Why the hell do I need to know _anything_ about Snape's past to go up against him?" Harry asked, angrily. "I hate him, I can barely speak his name without wanting to blow something up-"

"Exactly," Hermione interrupted, calmly. "He gets to you. Even more so than Voldemort."

"And with good reason! He told him about the prophecy! We all trusted him! Dumbledore trusted him!" Harry felt blood pounding in his ears, and he reflexively gripped the locket around his neck. "Dumbledore's dead because of him," he finished, quietly.

"I know, Harry. But Snape's powerful. You can't deny it," Hermione said loudly, holding up her hand as Harry started to speak, "so don't even try. You said it yourself, Ron. 'The Prince is a genius'. He's an enigma. Voldemort is easy enough to understand. He's power-hungry and evil, and cares about nothing else than chaos and destruction and prolonging his own life. I don't think anyone understands Snape. Not even Dumbledore understood him, apparently."

"And you think finding out why he was at my parents wedding and then maybe going and flipping through his yearbooks is somehow going to give me the understanding necessary to defeat him?" Harry asked, scathingly. "I don't care why Snape was there. I don't care what he did or who he was while he was at Hogwarts-"

"Well, maybe that's the problem!" Hermione shouted. "If we knew who he was before, when he was at school, maybe there'd be some hints about why he turned out the way he did."

"Oh, my God, Hermione!" Ron said, suddenly. "You're still trying to find good, aren't you? Trying to find out 'what went wrong'."

"I'm not sticking up for him, or trying to find good in him, Ron! But, yes . . . I think, if we found out 'what went wrong', then we'd be able to-"

"Nothing went wrong, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "He was mean and spiteful from the beginning. You heard Sirius - he knew more Dark curses his first year than half of the seventh years. He hung around all the people who became Death Eaters. He invented _Sectumsempra_! If you want a good look into what Snape was like while he was at school, why don't you go to Hogwarts and take another read through that book!"

"As I recall, you used to swear up and down by that book," Hermione told him. He glared at her murderously. "What did Dumbledore do all last year, Harry? What were his private lessons with you?" she argued.

Harry sighed aggravatedly. "He was teaching me about Voldemort. About Voldemort's past, and how he got to be the way he is now . . . " Hermione was giving him a pointed look. "But . . . but that was completely different. Dumbledore was showing me about some of the horcruxes and what they might be. Showing me how dominating Voldemort was, even when he was a kid. That he liked pain."

"He was showing you images, memories, that he and others had of Voldemort's past, to help you understand him. To prepare you for him. How is that different? Because it's Snape?"

Harry glared at her again. Ron looked back and forth from one to the other. "I'm really going to regret saying this, because I know she'll never let me live it down," he started, and Harry turned to him. "But . . . I think she's kind of got a point, mate. Don't get me wrong, I hate the old bat as much as you do." Harry gave him a look that said he strongly doubted it, but Ron ignored him. "But, Dumbledore said that what he was showing you was important. Maybe it wasn't important just because of the horcruxes. He could have told you that himself, right? He wanted you to see it for yourself. To see Voldemort. I know you don't want to hear it, but Hermione's right. You should go back to your aunt and uncle's . . . make your aunt explain. Maybe she's not telling you everything."

Harry remembered the odd looks that his Aunt was sending him the day that he left Number Four, and how she had looked like she had wanted to say something to him. _She wouldn't have been getting all bent out of shape over that, would she?_ Harry thought.

"You need to talk to her," Hermione encouraged him. "Not just about Snape, but about Dumbledore. You said that Howler he sent her said 'Remember my last'? Well, doesn't that mean that there had to have been more letters before that?" Harry wondered vaguely how she remembered all this stuff. "She was in correspondence with Dumbledore, Harry, I just know she was. Your Aunt knows more than she's telling, whether out of hate and nonacceptance of her sister, or fear. Who knows? But it's something you need to find out. You _need to talk to her_."

Harry looked at Ron, as if searching for support, but he had already said that he agreed with Hermione. Ron shrugged. "I'm sorry, mate, but I think she's right. Must be coming down with something." Hermione glared, and Harry grinned in spite of the situation. His two friends looked at him expectantly.

"Fine," he gave in. "The day before my birthday, we'll go back. All three of us. I don't know how much good it will do, though. Uncle Vernon pretty much told me never to come back ever again, and I wasn't exactly the Prince of Politeness while I was there, either. Do you know what he said to me? He said I should be grateful to them! That they took me in and I should thank them."

Ron rolled his eyes scoffingly, but Hermione averted hers and instead looked at the floor.

"What, you agree with him?" _First she wants me to study Snape, and now this?_ Harry thought, angrily. "What did they ever do for me besides treat me like trash they picked up off the side of the road?"

"What you just said," she told him. "They took you in. Look, Harry, I don't agree with the way they treated you and I don't think your Uncle is a very nice person, but he's got a point. They didn't have to do anything that they did."

"From what Dumbledore said last summer it seems as though they did. I mean . . . they didn't do anything for me that any other wizarding family wouldn't have done." He gestured at Ron. "For God's sake, your mum would have definitely treated me better than they did! She would have wanted me-"

"Yes, and you might have turned out quite different," Hermione interrupted. "Don't you see, Harry? Dumbledore placed you there for a reason, and not just because of the protection you get from your Aunt being your mum's sister. It's made you who you are."

She picked up the book that Harry had put aside and started flipping through it, and Harry was left with nothing but his own inner struggles. Hermione had, as usual, given him a lot to think about.

_A/N: Giving credit where credit is due: I got the specifications and the wording for the handfasting ceremony from these two sites: http/ and http/ _

_Sorry this was so long; there was actually supposed to be a lot more. This chapter was supposed to follow all the way to when he went back to the Dursleys until he turned seventeen, but it was just way too much information for one chapter. _

_Part of the scene from Harry's dream was, obviously, taken from "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince" Chapter 27, pg 595-596, and Harry remembering what Sirius said about Regulus was taken from "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix", Chapter Six, page 112_


	5. Knots

Chapter Four

_Knots_

"We should Apparate right in the middle of their living room," Ron snickered. "That would be brilliant!"

It was the day before Harry turned seventeen, and he, Ron, and Hermione were making their way downstairs to have some breakfast before heading back to Privet Drive. After their discussion a week ago, the three of them had made Mr. and Mrs. Weasley aware of their plans. They didn't give specifics, but Harry said that he needed to talk to his aunt about something important. The Weasley's didn't like the idea of Ron and Hermione tagging along. Mrs. Weasley said it was "much too dangerous," but Ron - ears going red - reminded them that he was of age, and that Hermione wasn't their daughter, and therefore they could tell neither of them what to do. That didn't stop Mrs. Weasley from waving her wand threateningly at him and promising to take a leaf out of Fred and George's book and turn his bedroom into a swamp if the three of them didn't return by the next day. Harry promised that they would, having no desire to tempt Voldemort into catching him unawares. Once the three of them got back from the Dursleys, Harry was going to be moved to Headquarters where he would be protected. Harry was not looking forward to this in the slightest; the only reason he ever wanted to go back to Grimmauld Place was to see Sirius. There was nothing for him there now.

"It's legally your home now, dear," Mrs. Weasley had said. "And seeing as you're not going back to school . . . well, it's something you might want to think about. You know you're always welcome here, but considering the circumstances . . . "

Hermione and Ron reasoned that he'd just have to make it his home until the war's over. "Once Voldemort is gone, there will be no reason for you to keep it," Hermione said, sympathetically. "I know you hate that house now, just like Sirius did. But, it _is_ Order Headquarters and well protected, not just by the Fidelius Charm, but by other wards as well. Once you defeat Voldemort, you can sell it and use the money to get a place of your own somewhere else."

_You mean _if_ I defeat Voldemort_, Harry corrected her, inwardly.

"Yeah, and we'll come live with you, too!" Ron stated. He and Hermione both went red, and he added, quickly, "I mean . . . you know, as your roommates . . . with separate rooms . . . "

Harry rolled his eyes. "I get it, don't worry." Then he smiled. "You know, that would be really great, actually. The three of us getting our own place, at least for a little while." _Before you guys get married and have lots and lots of babies. And I'm . . . wherever I am._ Harry wasn't sure where it came from, but he couldn't see himself being one of those people who settled down, at least not right now, anyway. He didn't know how long the war was going to last, and it was too dangerous for him to be involved with anyone, let alone have children. Even after the war, he didn't think he'd be able to do it. He would be stained, having gone through so much. It wouldn't be fair to whoever he would be sharing his life with. _Well, I might have been able to with Ginny_, Harry thought, sadly. _But she'll probably be well over me by the time I'm ready to get married, and have gone off with someone else._

"Hello? Earth to Harry!"

Harry snapped himself out of his reverie to see Hermione waving her hand in front of his eyes, trying to get his attention.

"Oh, sorry. Um, what?"

Hermione huffed at him. "I was asking what you wanted to do about getting to your aunt and uncle's. Ron's still insisting that we appear right in front of their face, but as I keep reminding him," she said deliberately, glaring at Ron, "that would be in direct violation of the International Statute of Secrecy."

"Oh, bollocks!" Ron shouted. "They already know about magic!"

"We still can't perform it right in front of Muggles," Hermione argued back.

"You know," Harry interrupted, getting annoyed, "it would be nice if, just once, you guys could give it a bloody rest."

The both of them blushed a satisfying shade of magenta. "You could just tell us to be quiet next time," Ron grumbled.

"I would have done if I thought it would work," Harry said, dismissively. "Anyway, I think our best bet would just be to Apparate in the house. Not in their living room," he added, seeing the look on Hermione's face. "Although Ron's right - it would be totally worth it. The three of us can't fit under my cloak anymore, and we don't have enough for everyone."

"We have two," Hermione said. "Yours, and we could always have Moody floo us his."

"If he's not out on assignment today," Harry pointed out. "We can't just appear in the middle of the street with no way of making sure that no one will see us."

"Well, there's always a Disillusionment Charm," Ron suggested. "But they're ridiculously advanced." He looked expectantly at Hermione, but she shook her head.

"I, er . . . I haven't exactly mastered them yet, actually," she said, sounding a bit sheepish. "I'm working on it, though."

"Well, then Apparating in the house is our only option," Harry said, shrugging. "There's other rooms besides the parlor. We could always just Apparate into my old bedroom, it's probably the last place any of them would be. Unless they've turned it back into a second bedroom for Dudley. And even then it's unlikely that he'd be in the house. It's still summer holiday."

Hermione seemed to consider this for a moment, and then, it what seemed to be against her better judgement, agreed. "Fine, then. But we should at least let them know we're coming, Harry."

"And give them a chance to say no? Then my protection ends a day early," Harry stated. "No. We just literally pop in, ask her what we need to know, and then leave."

"What if it takes more than a day to get her to cave?" asked Ron. "I mean, hell, she's kept quiet for almost, what, sixteen years?"

Ron had an excellent point, and they had promised Mrs. Weasley that they would be back tomorrow. "Then we'll just have to put some of those protective spells we've been learning to use and ward the house," Harry said, gravely. "I don't know what else to do."

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks and then nodded resolutely. Harry looked at the clock before remembering that it didn't tell the time.

"I think it's around 9:30," Hermione told him. Harry sighed, fingering the locket again.

"I guess we'd better get going."

* * *

"Well," said Harry, once the three of them Apparated (Harry side-long with Hermione) into his old bedroom at Number Four. "They didn't waste any time, did they?" 

Hermione looked around open-mouthed, while Ron just looked confused.

"They turned your room into a torture chamber?" he asked.

Harry laughed out loud. "No! They're not-they're not for torture, Ron. They're exercise machines. Amusing, really . . . I don't think I've seen Dudley exercise a day in his life. Well, I guess you could count all the times he chased me around trying to beat me up."

"Didn't you say he was into boxing?" Hermione asked, indicating a stand equipped with a heavy bag.

"Yeah. Leave it to the Dursley's to buy a million things he'll never use. If Dudley sets foot on that treadmill, I'll break my wand and live like a Muggle."

Ron was still looking at the equipment with trepidation. _Better get this over with_, Harry thought. _The sooner I talk to Aunt Petunia, the sooner I can leave. Again._

"Come on, we'd better go downstairs," Harry said, leading the way to the door. The three of them walked downstairs, Harry in half a mind to yell "Surprise!", and saw that the living room was empty. Harry shrugged, and went into the kitchen, and then into the back garden. He came back inside and shrugged again.

"Must not be home."

Hermione bit her lip. "Hadn't planned on that. When do you think they'll be back?"

"Dunno. It's not like I know where they went," Harry pointed out, flopping down on the couch. Ron followed suite. "I guess we'll just have to wait."

Hermione nodded and sat down in the armchair across from the two boys. Harry found the remote, turned on the TV (which almost made Ron jump halfway out of his seat), and found some cartoons, while Hermione took in their surroundings.

"They're very clean," she said. Harry snorted.

"Wonder if they've got anything to eat," Ron said, looking hopefully back over at the refrigerator.

Hermione stared at him incredulously. "You had five pancakes and six pieces of sausage for breakfast!"

"So?" asked Ron. Hermione just rolled her eyes. Ron turned to Harry. "Do you think they'll mind?"

"Yes," Harry answered truthfully. "But who cares?"

They dug around in the Dursley's kitchen and found something to eat for lunch, and watched some more TV. ("It's like the portraits we have, only they're trapped in that box and can't talk to you," Ron said). Harry dared him to try the elliptical machine upstairs, and he and Hermione got their entertainment for the day watching Ron try (and fail) to get on it and then figure out how it worked. When he finally did, he was so startled by the sudden movement he almost fell off.

Later on that evening, the Dursley's still hadn't returned, and Harry was getting worried. It was a little past six o'clock, and they had ordered a pizza (Hermione having, being the sensible one, brought some Muggle money). They were sitting at the kitchen table, reminiscing about school, when the front door opened and Harry heard a familiar voice yell:

"What the devil!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked up to see Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley standing in the hall between the front door and the kitchen. Harry, pizza halfway into his mouth, just waved and said, "Hi."

Uncle Vernon was furious. His face had already gone purple, and the vein in his forehead was going. Aunt Petunia looked shocked, and Dudley just stared stupidly. He was in his boxing robes and looked like he had just come back from a match.

"I thought you'd left!" he yelled, pointing a finger at Harry.

"I did," Harry said. "That's what you call it when I move all my stuff somewhere else and live there for the past three weeks."

"What . . . the _hell_ . . . do you think you're doing in my house, boy!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "How dare you! Trespassing! Petunia, phone the police!"

Hermione looked scandalized. "We didn't break in or anything, sir, we just Apparated-"

Uncle Vernon waved his hands wildly at her. "No! I will not have any more talk of that unnaturalness in my house! We are done with it!" He reeled on Harry. "I thought you were gone. What do you mean by it, showing up here? You have a lot of nerve, boy, a _lot_ of nerve." His eyes went to the pizza, and then they swept over to the living room, where the TV was still on and there were still some remnants of that day's lunch. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

_Oh, boy_, Harry thought, tiredly. He was prepared for this; he'd dealt with it for as long as he could remember. Ron and Hermione, however, were looking at Uncle Vernon as if he were some escaped mental patient.

"I came to talk to_ her_," Harry stated, nodding his head at Aunt Petunia. She hadn't moved since seeing the three of them at her kitchen table. "I think she has some things she needs to tell me."

Uncle Vernon bristled. "Petunia has nothing to say to you!"

"That's . . . that's not exactly true, Vernon," Aunt Petunia said, very quietly. So quietly, in fact, that Harry barely heard her at all. But Uncle Vernon whirled, staring at her like he'd never seen her before. "What? What do you mean?"

She sighed and sent Harry a nasty, withering look. "I knew you'd come back, wanting answers. Especially after that slip up about her wedding."

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said, unwaveringly. Ron and Hermione watched the scene with bated breath. "You know more than you let on. More than you want to know, I'd wager."

Aunt Petunia sniffed haughtily. Uncle Vernon was still looking at her oddly. Apparently, this was news to him as well.

"What's he talking about Petunia?" he asked again. Dudley looked bored, and turned his attention instead to the half-eaten pizza on the kitchen table.

"You gonna eat the rest of that?" he asked Ron.

Ron shoved the rest of the pizza forward, and Dudley grabbed it, taking it into the living room and plopping down on the sofa.

Aunt Petunia looked uncomfortable now, and she kept glancing from Harry to Uncle Vernon. "Why should I explain anything to you? Maybe there are some things that need to be left well enough alone."

"Anything to do with my parents isn't one of them," Harry argued. "You said Snape was at my parents wedding. Why? And that Howler . . . it said 'Remember my last'. How long were you in correspondence with Dumbledore before the night he brought me here?"

Aunt Petunia was fidgeting now. "I don't think this is something we should be discussing-"

"Ron and Hermione aren't leaving," Harry said, shortly. "They're my best friends, and they're going to help me win this war against Voldemort. And I don't think Uncle Vernon should leave either. It seems to me that he's been kept in the dark just as much as I have." Harry sighed. "I know you don't like us: me, Ron and Hermione, wizards, magic, the whole lot of it. But if you know something . . . something that might help . . . I need to know. You knew what Voldemort being back meant two years ago. You seemed to understand that Dumbledore being dead was going to make everything a lot worse. Well . . . I'm the only one who can stop Voldemort." He ignored Uncle Vernon's derisive snort. "You let me stay here for sixteen years. You didn't want me here; that was pretty obvious. So what made you do it? What happened to make you understand what was going on?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Uncle Vernon all stared at her, waiting. Realizing there was no getting out of this, Aunt Petunia sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "I supposed there's no getting around it, is there?" When no one answered, she sighed again and pulled out a chair, sitting down.

"Yes. Snape was at her wedding-" she began, but Harry cut her off.

"One thing before we get into this: she had a name. It was Lily. She had red hair, and green eyes like mine, and she was good at Charms and Potions." He gave her a meaningful look. "Use her name. She was your sister, whether you like it or not."

Aunt Petunia's eyes hardened for a moment, but then she nodded. "I honestly don't see why this is so important, and as I told you before, it seemed the only reason he showed up was to tell her . . . was to tell Lily . . . not to . . . not to marry James," she began, sounding as if speaking her sister and brother-in-law's name was some kind of terrible burden. "Vernon and I had just recently gotten married ourselves. I only went, as I said before, because my parents were very . . . _proud_ . . . of Lily and told me they would never forgive me if I didn't support my sister and come to her wedding. They never cared about the magic. They never cared that she would amount to nothing in the _real world_. They were very open-minded, my parents. Very supportive. They always wanted Lily and me to be whatever we wanted." She took a breath, as if centering herself, and started again:

"It was before the ceremony. James and that idiotic friend of his . . . Padfoot he was always calling him. They were inside the church with my parents and the guests. I was helping Lily get ready in a little dressing room they had set up for her in the back. All those so-called powers and she couldn't get that damn veil to stay on her head.

"Anyway, we ran out of hair pins, and I knew that my mother had brought extra, so I left to go get them. When I got back, I saw that the door was half-open, and I could hear a man's voice. At first I thought it was James, but I knew that couldn't be right because I had just seen him in the sanctuary. So, I snuck a bit closer and peaked in, and I saw a tall, gangly sort of man with awful black, stringy hair all in his face. He looked like he hadn't washed it in his entire life." She shuddered with the memory and Harry tried not to laugh. Aunt Petunia was certainly one of those who thought that cleanliness was next to godliness. "Lily called the man Severus. Horrible name. They were having some sort of argument, from what it sounded like. Lily said that he was being ridiculous and that he didn't have the right to come barging in right before her wedding. The man . . . Snape's his surname?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes. Snape said that she was the one being ridiculous, marrying someone like James, and that if she was at all concerned for her own safety, she would leave imeadiately. He mentioned those Dementor things. He told her that they were supposed to guard Azkaban, the Wizard prison, but that 'he' was trying to get them on his side," Aunt Petunia continued.

_He must have been talking about Voldemort_, Harry thought. Something else hit him as well, and he opened his mouth to say something, but his aunt had started again:

"He told her that she didn't want those things after her. Lily sounded afraid for a moment, and asked what he meant by it. And then he goes and says that James has been 'marked' and that she's putting herself in danger by marrying him, and that if he was any sort of man, he wouldn't put her in that position. Well, that started Lily off, and they started yelling about James. Snape was saying how he wasn't good enough for her, and Lily just kept going on and on about how he hated James and refused to give him a chance." Aunt Petunia had a look on her face that clearly said she agreed with Snape's view. Harry scowled.

"And . . . ?" he prompted.

Aunt Petunia pursed her lips. "This isn't easy, you know. You're lucky I'm even doing it at all. I could have phoned the police, like Vernon said." At the mention of her husbands name, she turned to regard him for a moment. Uncle Vernon had sat down at the table as well, and was listening to his wife with a look of interested horror on his face. "As I was saying," she said, turning back to Harry, "Snape was trying to make Lily leave while she could, saying that he could try and persuade certain people. He could tell them that she would be useful. Something about Charms and Potions, like you said earlier. Lily got awfully quiet then. She started trying to back away from him, asking if he was one of 'them' now. Snape got very quiet then, too, and said that he was there only out of concern for her. Lily moved off somewhere into the room where I couldn't see anymore and Snape followed. It was quiet for a long time, and then Lily said something that I couldn't hear. Then Snape asked her if that was her choice. He sounded . . . not angry, but . . . sort of sad. Kind of resolved. Anyway, Lily says yes and goes on about how she loves James and that 'for better or for worse' started then." Aunt Petunia rolled her eyes. "And then Snape just walks out, very nearly hitting me with the door. He kind of . . . sneered at me and then he left." She shrugged. "I went back in and Lily looked flustered and upset. I asked her what that was all about, and she just kind of looked at me for a moment before saying she was just catching up with an old friend." Aunt Petunia threw up her hands. "And that's it."

Harry stared. "So, he came to warn my mum about the Dementors? He thought that Voldemort was going to send them after her and my dad.But . . . why would he care? It still doesn't make any sense! He called her a Mudblood! Why would he-"

"I don't know," Aunt Petunia snapped. "That was the first and last time I saw him. And all I have to say about it is that it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and she should have listened to him. Not three days after the wedding, they found . . . they found my parents. Our parents. Just lying in their house."

_Oh, no . . . _"_Avada Kedavra_," Harry whispered. "The Killing Curse. It leaves no marks . . . " He looked at his aunt curiously. "That's the real reason you never spoke to her again, isn't it?"

"I didn't speak to her much to begin with after she got that letter," sniffed Aunt Petunia.

"But that's what finally did it. You blame her. Because Snape warned her that marrying my dad was a bad idea. That he was already marked for death by Voldemort."

"It sounded as if Snape was trying to recruit her," Hermione stated and Harry jumped. He almost forgot she and Ron where there, they had been so quiet. "Saying how he could persuade people that she would be useful because she was so good at Potions and Charms. She . . . she defied him," she added quietly.

"He warned her!" Aunt Petunia shouted, suddenly. "And she married him anyway! That idiot was bad news from the beginning, always going on about something called Quidditch and ruffling his hair. Snape used the word 'blood traitor', I remember that now. He told her Voldemort had him marked because he was a blood traitor. She married him and they died! And she tried to stand up for him afterward! Saying that it wasn't his fault-"

"It wasn't! Voldemort kills whoever he wants to," Harry said, hotly. "Look, Voldemort just got mad that my mum 'defied' him, or whatever . . . Oh . . . Oh, my God . . . " _Born to those who have thrice defied him . . . _"That was the first one. Them getting married."

Everyone was looking at him very strangely. He didn't care. Things were starting to slowly, ever so slowly, click into place. "So, Snape shows up, tells my mum she's pretty much a right idiot for marrying my dad, storms off, and then three days later your parents are killed." He looked toward Ron and Hermione. "You don't think he had anything to do with it, do you?"

Ron shrugged, but Hermione answered: "You saw his confessional for yourself, Harry. It doesn't mention anything about that."

_Right, 'cause it's not like Snape's never lied before,_ Harry thought, sarcastically. He turned his attention back to his aunt. _"He_ was the one you meant two years ago, when you said you heard 'that awful boy' telling my mum about them. The Dementors. That's how you knew about them, from listening when he came to see her at the wedding. I thought you meant my dad." Another thought struck him, and he reflexively gripped the locket in his hand. "Or was I meant to?"

Aunt Petunia shifted uncomfortably again. Uncle Vernon was staring at her, wide-eyed. "I really don't want to go through this again," he muttered.

Harry looked at him. "Go through what?"

"Talking," humphed Uncle Vernon. "About those letters. I remember when they arrived, nearly frightened Petunia half to death. They just . . . just _appeared_ out of nowhere. In a kind of flame."

_Fawkes_, thought Harry. "Dumbledore started writing to you because of the prophecy, didn't he? Because of what Snape told Voldemort."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stared. "What are you on about?" his uncle demanded. "What's this rubbish about a-a _prophecy_? Fortune telling doesn't exist!"

"Right. Just like magic," Harry said, sardonically. Uncle Vernon glared.

"I had wondered . . . " Aunt Petunia began. "Later on, in one of the letters he sent . . . " she trailed off, looking at Harry, amusingly, like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. "Yes. Dumbledore and I had . . . correspondence. A few months after you were born - Dudley was one - I began receiving letters from someone named Albus Dumbledore. I knew where they came from, and what he had to be, so I ignored them at first, like we did with your school letters. But after the third time, the letter came with a warning," she explained. "He said that the people who killed my - Lily and I's - parents were now after _her_ . . . after you. He said they managed to escape Voldemort a number of times already, but that he was concerned that their time was running out. He said that no matter what I thought or felt about Lily that you were my nephew, and an innocent." She sighed.

"I wrote back, eventually. Vernon warned me not to. But I was curious about what all this had to do with me. Dumbledore said that 'recent events' had taken place that put you, and Lily and James, in great danger. He said that if anything happened to them that it would be up to me to protect you. He must have meant that prophecy." She regarded Harry for a moment, and there was something in her eyes that he did not like. It was the same look that she got whenever she heard a good bit of gossip. "What did it say?"

Harry scowled. "I thought it was all rubbish," he said, shooting a look at Uncle Vernon.

"I'm telling you everything you need to know," Aunt Petunia pointed out. "I think I have a right. Dumbledore never explained anything properly. It was really quite annoying."

Harry almost smiled. He could just picture the letters in all their ambiguousness, almost see the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye as he wrote them, popping lemon drops. "There was a prophecy made," Harry began, slowly, "the year before I was born, that said that the person who would defeat Voldemort would be born at the end of July, to parents that had defied Voldemort three times. Once July rolled around, it applied to both me, and one other person. Voldemort eventually settled on me being the person that the prophecy was talking about."

"Why?" asked Uncle Vernon. "You're nothing special."

Harry ignored the last part, but Ron and Hermione scowled. "You have no idea what Harry can do, you-" Ron began, riling up, but Harry put a hand on his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter." Turning back to his Aunt and Uncle, he answered: "Dumbledore figured it's because both Voldemort and I are half-bloods." At the blank look on his relatives' faces, he explained, "My mother was Muggle-born and my father was a full Wizard. His father was Muggle, and his mother was a witch. The other person . . . Neville . . . his parents were both pure-bloods."

"It came true, though," Uncle Vernon, realized. "When your parents died . . . You survived and he went away, too, right?"

"Er . . . not exactly," Harry said. "This is where it starts getting complicated."

"Oh!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "_This_ is where it starts getting complicated, is it? Because it's been perfectly understandable up until now!"

Harry sighed. Trust Uncle Vernon to make things that more difficult. "Will you stop?" he said, angrily. "Do you want to know, or not?"

Hermione was giving him a pointed look. "Harry, I really don't think this is a good idea. If Voldemort-"

"Voldemort knows there's no love lost between me and the Dursleys," Harry said, bluntly. "I honestly don't think he'd give attacking here a second thought."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's eyes doubled to almost twice their normal size upon hearing this information. "What-what do you mean . . . _attack_ . . . ?" Aunt Petunia sputtered.

"Voldemort's been inside my head," Harry said. "And I'm sure Snape's told him loads about me: how I act, what he knows about my family . . . and Snape's seen more memories of this place than even I'd care to remember. I really think you should be safe."

The Dursleys exchanged glances. Aunt Petunia still looked uneasy; Uncle Vernon looked enraged. "Now, wait just a damn minute! We weren't informed of any of this when we took you in! Now you're telling us that our _lives_ might be at stake? What the hell did that old codger get us into!"

Aunt Petunia regarded Harry again. "What's the . . . complicated . . . bit?"

Harry shifted in his seat. Ron gave him an encouraging nod, but Hermione still looked doubtful. "Well . . . the thing is Voldemort only heard half of the prophecy. Or, I should say, _Snape_ only heard half of it, and told Voldemort. The rest of it said that Voldemort would mark the person . . . me . . . as his 'equal', and that I would have a power that he doesn't have or understand, and-" Harry swallowed.

"And that one of us has got to, er, kill the other, because we can't survive while either of us is still alive," he finished.

"This is insane," Uncle Vernon muttered.

"I'm not making it up!" shouted Harry. "I wish I was! Do you know that's the reason that my parents are dead? You're right. It is insane. And Voldemort's insane for believing it. But he did. And now, because he set the first part in motion sixteen years ago, I've got to try and finish it now."

Aunt Petunia had covered her mouth with her hand, seeming momentarily shocked. Harry gave her a wry smile. "Congratulations. Your nephew is the Chosen One," he said, sarcastically.

"And-and Lily . . . she was involved in all of this, too? Fighting Voldemort?" Aunt Petunia asked.

"Yeah. See, what you two never understood is that not all magic is bad. But there _are_ Dark Wizards. And he's one of them. Probably the worst that there's ever been."

Aunt Petunia nodded. "Dumbledore mentioned someone named Grindelwald - like I was supposed to know. He said . . . he said that he surpassed even him. I took that as being bad."

Harry nodded. "Um . . . yeah, I'd think so."

"Grindelwald was responsible for . . . " Hermione began, but, seeing the look on both Ron and Harry's faces, quieted down again.

"What else did Dumbledore say?" Harry asked. "Did he, er . . . did he mention anything about Snape?" Hermione shot him a look, which he ignored. "You were at the bit where Dumbledore said it would be up to you to protect me," he prompted.

Aunt Petunia cleared her throat. "Yes . . . well, I wrote to him and said he was completely out of his mind, and that I couldn't be expected to protect someone . . . well, someone like you. I had no powers. How was I supposed to keep you safe from something when even Lily and James might not be able to? But all Dumbledore said was that he had 'something up his sleeve'. Well, I pretty much wrote him off as completely mad after that point and never replied to him again. But, he kept me updated about them - Lily and James, I mean - and then he wrote saying that they had come up with a plan, and were going into hiding. But he said that the spell that they had used prohibited him from telling me where they were, and that they had entrusted their secret to a dear friend." She suddenly looked very angry. "And then the next day I find you on my doorstep with one final note from Dumbledore telling me about this 'blood bond charm' nonsense, and that was it!"

"Yeah," Harry said, wistfully. "Their plan didn't exactly work out."

"Obviously," Aunt Petunia sniffed.

_That is getting really annoying_, thought Harry.

"And the rest, as they say, is history," Hermione quipped. "Now he's back, and the prophecy needs to be fulfilled."

"This is all bloody nonsense!" Uncle Vernon ranted, coming up out of his chair. "We swore to put and end to it when we took you in, but _no_, it was off to that crackpot school anyway! It was enough that Petunia's sister was one of them, but then her nephew - _my_ nephew - has to be the damn patron of the Free the Wizarding World campaign! What _is_ this Voldemort person, anyway? Why is all this happening? Somebody better explain!" He was breathing hard, eyes wide, face red, vein pulsing, and mustache twitching. He seemed well on the way to being at the end of his rope.

"Voldemort is a Dark Wizard," Hermione explained. "His name used to be Tom Riddle, and he went to Hogwarts fifty years ago. His mother was a witch, as Harry said, who was one of the decedents of the people that founded our school. His father was a Muggle." She looked at Harry, who continued:

"His father left when he found out that Merope - that was his mum's name - was a witch. And she died giving birth to him. He hates the Muggle part of his heritage, and his whole scheme is what he calls the purification of the Wizarding race. Which means Muggle-borns, like Hermione; blood-traitors, who are pure-blooded wizards who disagree with him, basically, or who've married a Muggle or Muggle-born; and half-bloods, like himself, need to be wiped out. And he wants to take as many Muggles with them as he can, too."

Uncle Vernon stared blankly. "So, he's some sort of magical Hitler?"

"That's pretty accurate, yes," Hermione answered. "All the killings lately . . . I'm assuming you've been paying attention to the news . . . they're all Voldemort and his followers. They're called Death Eaters."

Aunt Petunia nodded. "That's what Dumbledore called them. Things like this happened before. Vernon . . . you remember."

It seemed he was trying not to. "I didn't want to be dragged into this," he admitted. "I would have been perfectly content with the wild stories that the news came up with. But, because of your family . . . I knew what was really going on. Which is why, boy, we never wanted it in our house to begin with."

"I've already told you that not all magic is bad," Harry said, starting to get angry again. "You're just prejudiced."

Uncle Vernon snorted.

Harry looked at him very oddly then. "What if Aunt Petunia had been a witch?" he asked.

Uncle Vernon seemed very taken aback. "What?"

"What if she had been like my mum? Would you have stuck around? What if Dudley had been magic, too?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry, that's not-"

"That's neither here nor there!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, finishing Hermione's sentence.

"But I think it is," Harry said, firmly.

Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes. "How _dare_ you! I love Petunia! And Dudders!"

"That doesn't answer the question. If Aunt Petunia had turned out to be a witch, like my mum, and that meant that any children you had might be a witch or wizard, too, would that have changed anything?"

Uncle Vernon remained silent for a long time. Finally, he got up, and said, quietly, "I'm going upstairs." Then he turned and stalked out of the kitchen. Dudley eyed him from his spot on the sofa, the pizza apparently gone. Ron shook his head in disgust, and Hermione was still staring at Harry in wide-eyed astonishment. But Harry was looking at his aunt. She didn't move, or speak. She didn't look angry, nor did she look sad. She just looked, as before, very, very tired. And Harry realized, for the first time, how much of a toll the prophecy, and the war, had affected his family. _All_ of his family. He looked around the house he had been forced to call home, over at the mess that still remained in the living room, and at the empty pizza box that Dudley had discarded on the floor. Then he turned back to his aunt.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked.

She sighed, pursing her lips. "What now?"

"I was just wondering," he began, "if you still kept the vacuum in the upstairs closet?"

* * *

Harry thought he at least owed his aunt one last housecleaning; it was what he was best at, while living there, after all. Only this time, he had the added help of Ron and Hermione. They had all waged a cleaning war on Grimmauld Place, and Harry knew this would be _considerably_ easier. Ron wasn't too keen at first, still angry at Uncle Vernon's remarks, but he did his share for Harry's sake. He put Ron in charge of dusting, because he wasn't sure how his friend would react to the vacuum. He agreed to not use magic, albeit grumpily, but Harry swore he saw him try and manage a few nonverbal _Scourgifies_ when he thought Harry and Hermione weren't looking. It took them two hours, but the downstairs looked exactly as it had when they arrived. Aunt Petunia didn't thank them; Harry hadn't expected her to. She had taken herself and Dudley upstairs and hadn't come back down since. It was now past ten, and Ron and Hermione - both physically and mentally exhausted after the day's events - had collapsed on the couches and fallen asleep. Harry was fighting off sleep himself. 

_We really should get out of here_, he thought. _Come midnight, it won't be safe . . . _

_A little rest won't hurt_, he argued with himself. _Mmmm . . . that armchair actually looks quite comfortable, really . . . _

Suddenly, someone was shaking him. Hard.

"Harry, _wake up!_"

He was in the chair, legs draped over one of the arms. He didn't even remember falling asleep. He blinked, tiredly. "Wassamatter?" he asked.

Ron and Hermione were both standing over him, looking anxious and worried. His sleepiness was fading rapidly with the realization that something was wrong.

"What's the matter?" he asked again, but part of him knew it. He had been asleep. They'd all been asleep.They'd all been careless. He jumped out of the armchair, patting his pockets for his wand. It was on the coffee table. He didn't remember doing that either. _I must have been really out of it_. "What time is it?"

"11:55," Hermione whispered.

_Oh, shit._

"Come on!" he said, racing toward the door. "It's dark. We won't be seen. We'll go outside so we won't wake them up. We don't have time to explain if we do."

He, Ron, and Hermione were halfway there when he realized that someone was already standing at the door. Harry's heart leapt into his throat and he raised his wand before he realized that it was the last person he expected.

Aunt Petunia was wide awake and waiting for him. "So," she said, arms crossed. "What are you going to do now?"

"I have to go," Harry said, ignoring her. "I have to go now. If I stay here a minute longer than I should . . . I don't want anything to happen to you. Any of you. Move."

She didn't. He glanced at Hermione's watch: 11:57.

"Move," he repeated again, leveling his wand at her. She didn't even blink. Harry was getting suspicious.

"I wanted to say," she started, glancing up the stairs. Harry figured she was checking for Uncle Vernon. "I wanted to say that . . . that I'm . . . I feel sorry, for some of the things we did."

_Some?_ Harry thought, before the realization of what his aunt just said sunk in. She seemed to be doing that to him a lot lately. "What?" he asked, incredulously.

11:58.

Aunt Petunia grit her teeth. "I said I was sorry. Dumbledore was right; in both the letters, and in what he said when he came here last year. He trusted us to take care of you, and we did, but . . . you're my sister's son."

Harry was suddenly filled with paranoid thoughts of Polyjuice and the _Imperius_, before realizing that Voldemort would never have bothered with such extreme measures this close to his birthday.

11:59.

Harry motioned for Ron and Hermione to go ahead outside. Wands out, they obeyed, leaving the door open for him.

"We're going to try to ward the house, just in case," Harry said to his aunt. "If they think that you care about me or something . . . if they get the wrong idea . . . " He didn't finish, but Aunt Petunia got the hint.

"Go," she said. He nodded, showing her that he understood what she was trying to say and was grateful, and then turned and to walk out the door.

"Harry," Aunt Petunia said, suddenly.

He turned, well prepared to tell her off this time, before realizing that she had said his given name. She bit her lip with her horsey front teeth, shoved something roughly into his hand, and pushed him out the door. He shut it, wondering what that was all about, and made to tell Hermione and Ron to try out some of their new spells, just in case, when he backed right into the former, who was frozen in place. She spoke his name in a frightened whisper, and Harry didn't even have to turn around to understand why. Ron was next to her, gripping her hand tightly. Harry glanced at Hermione's watch again before turning to stand with his two friends.

"Well," a high, cold voice said. "Happy birthday, Harry."

12:01.


	6. Coming of Age

Chapter Five

_Coming of Age_

July 31, 1997

12:01 a.m.

"Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry felt his insides turn to ice. His heart rate increased rapidly until he thought it would explode. He went to reach for the locket before realizing that he still had whatever it was Aunt Petunia gave him clutched in his hand. He inconspicuously shoved it in his back pocket and raised his wand. _No, not now, please not now! I'm not ready, I'm not ready . . . _his mind thought frantically. At least Voldemort saw his aunt shove him out the door, and he had to give her props for her unexpected cleverness. Standing in the Dursleys' front garden was the tall, thin form of Lord Voldemort. His Death Eaters - ten or so, it looked like - rallied around him. Harry swallowed, and tried to cover his fear with sarcasm.

"Yeah, thanks. Where's my present?"

Voldemort actually laughed. "Grown up a bit since we last met, eh, Harry? A little more . . . brave, perhaps?" He smirked. "Seeing someone you loved murdered will do that to you, I suppose."

Harry felt his blood start to boil. Beside him, Hermione was almost visibly shaking. Ron was as white as a sheet, and he could hear him muttering, "Oh, my God, it's him. It's _him_." And Harry realized that this was the first time his friends had seen Voldemort; would have to face Voldemort. His heart went out to them and he knew exactly how they felt - he would never forget the first time he met the man who was once Tom Riddle, face to face in that graveyard. It was the most horrifying experience of his life, and it always would be. The fear started to rise again, and he saw those red eyes narrow, and a smirk play on Voldemort's lips. Harry imeadiately averted his eyes. Not for the first time, Harry really, really wished that he had taken more advantage of Snape's time on their side and gotten better at Occlumency. _Hang on_, Harry thought, suddenly. _If the Death Eaters are here, then one of them may be . . . _Harry's eyes suddenly began sweeping the crowd of Death Eaters. They were all masked, of course, there would be no way to tell . . .

"Ah," Voldemort said, silkily. "You're looking for him, aren't you? Severus."

Harry froze, and stared back into those horrible red eyes, willing himself to remain calm. "Where is he?"

Voldemort and the Death Eaters laughed. "Maybe he's here . . . maybe not. Why don't you see if you can find him?" The Death Eaters laughed again, some of them waving as if to say "Over here!" One began singing, "Come out, come out wherever you are, Severus!"

"Your desire for revenge is overwhelming, Harry," Voldemort whispered. "How would Dumbledore feel, if he saw you now?"

"Don't you talk about him!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at Voldemort's face. Hermione and Ron imeadiately drew in closer around him, wands raised.

Voldemort tutted, drawing another laugh from the Death Eaters. "I have to say I'm a little disappointed in you, Harry. This is who you choose to fight beside you - a traitor . . . and a Mudblood?"

Harry was slowly losing his nerve and calm. _How could I have been so stupid? We should have been at the Burrow! And I left . . . I put Ron and Hermione in danger . . . to talk to my Aunt about a wedding and letters._ They had members of the Order at the Burrow. Here, they only had each other. And the Dursleys . . . and a street full of Muggles.

Fear clenched Harry's insides. _Oh, God, I've led him to a slaughter ground._ Hoping Voldemort wouldn't realize the potential damage he could ensue, but realizing that it was probably too late, Harry resorted back to taunting to keep Voldemort's focus away from hurting anyone other than him. "Funny then, that you didn't just come yourself," he snapped, indicating the swarm of black robes that surrounded Voldemort. "Worried?"

"_Harry_!" Hermione whispered frantically beside him. "Don't entice him!"

"Your Mudblood is very clever, Harry," Voldemort said, drawing out his own wand. The Death Eaters did the same. "Just like your mother." He glanced at the house behind the three friends. "Her sister lives here, doesn't she?" Harry didn't answer. Voldemort knew very well whose house this was, and Harry knew he was just trying to goad him into doing something stupid. "How does it feel to be hated by the only family you have left?"

Harry almost laughed, and it hit him how little Voldemort really understood him if he thought that the knowledge that the Dursleys hated his guts was some kind of blow to him. Oh, sure, he understood Harry enough to have lured him to the Department of Mysteries using Sirius, and to have used Ginny in his second year to lure him into the Chamber of Secrets. Just like Harry knew that Voldemort feared death, used to like hanging bunnies from rafters, and terrorizing children in caves. But the essence of what made Harry who he was . . . Voldemort didn't understand that at all.

"I don't know," Harry said slowly, feeling reckless. "How did it feel to have to rely on someone like Wormtail to keep you alive?"

"Harry, are you _mad_?" squeaked Ron.

The entourage around Voldemort bristled, but the Dark Lord held up his hand, silencing them. Beside him, Harry could hear Hermione's mantra of "remain calm, remain calm, remain calm." He knew her mind was working furiously. Ron whispered past Hermione, "What do we do?" Harry shook his head.

"Nothing. Don't make yourself a target-"

"No, you've already done that for them, haven't you, Harry?" Voldemort asked, sharply. "I almost feel sorry for dear Willem - returning from his honeymoon to find his family dead."

The Death Eaters laughed and Ron visibly stiffened on the other side of Hermione, who whimpered slightly.

"Ignore him, Ron," Harry said, roughly. "Leave them alone, it's me you want!"

"How cliche," Voldemort drawled. "I suppose this is where I'm supposed to start taunting you with Severus' tale of Dumbledore's destruction . . . about how he begged him to spare his life."

_Severus . . . Severus, please . . . _

"But, of course . . . you already know about that, don't you," that cold voice continued. "You were there."

Images of that night flashed through Harry's mind before he realized what Voldemort was doing. "NO!" he yelled, covering his ears in vain from the torrents of sound that were coming from inside his own head. He felt Hermione move beside him, then the familiar sense of a spell being used. Whatever Hermione had done, it knocked several Death Eaters off their feet, but Voldemort remained standing. He hadn't even flinched from Hermione's spell.

"Silly girl," he said, silkily. "Your books will not help you here." He raised his wand, Harry instinctively jumped in front of her-

-and then there came a familiar popping sound, and about a dozen members of the Order of the Phoenix appeared in the middle of Privet Drive. In their momentary shock, three Death Eaters were not quick enough and went down by stunning spells. Their fellows quickly retaliated, sending hexes and curses flying. Harry recognized Tonks' voice, and Lupin's, and the clunking gait of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Get the hell out of here, Potter!" he growled, hurling a spell that sent one Death Eater flying.

Voldemort looked bored. He flicked his wand lazily at one Order member, and they went down shrieking, their robes smoking.

"Harry! Hermione! Ron! _GO!_" Lupin yelled. "We'll find you!"

Harry felt Hermione grip his arm, and then he knew nothing else but the squeezing sensation of Apparition. The last thing he heard was the start of a Killing Curse before he was swept away.

--------------

They landed badly.

Once the two of them reappeared, Harry was flung sideways with the force and felt something in his ankle crack. Hermione remained upright for a moment before doubling over and vomiting all over the ground. Then she collapsed next to Harry.

"I'm sorry," she panted. "That was just so . . . so-"

"Fucking scary?" Harry finished. Hermione nodded.

"You've faced him twice," she stated. Harry looked at her.

"Yeah."

"How?"

Harry somehow managed a grin. "Well, you know - just luck, my brains, and my gut."

Hermione tried to laugh but threw up again instead. Harry shushed her, putting his arms around her protectively.

"Easy, Hermione," he comforted her, looking around at their surroundings. Something looked very familiar. "Where are we?"

Hermione took a shaky breath. "The first place I could think of where we'd be safe: Hogwarts. Well, almost. We can't Apparate to Hogwarts, obviously . . . Anyway, I took us to the road from Hogsmeade to the school."

Now Harry realized why it looked so familiar; he had walked the road to Hogsmeade many times in the past three years. It looked a lot different in the dark. "How far is the school?"

"I don't know. I just thought about here and that's where we went. We might have a bit of a walk. We should get moving," Hermione advised, and Harry remembered what she had said about Apparition being trackable. He tried to stand before remembering that he had broken his ankle, and collapsed to the ground again with a yelp of pain.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, worriedly.

"I'm fine," he told her through gritted teeth. "Just a broken ankle, I think."

"Here, lean on me," Hermione ordered, helping him to his feet again. He took another look around their surroundings, and realized with a jolt that something was missing.

"Hermione . . . where's Ron?"

Hermione's face had gone pale. "We couldn't Apparate all together, Harry. Side-long with one person is dangerous enough, but three? We would have splinched. And I couldn't tell Ron where we were going, in case they heard . . . " She bit her lip. "I have no idea where he is! I don't know where he would have gone. The Burrow, maybe . . . or Headquarters." She made a pained expression. "We should have gone there."

Harry shook his head. "No. You made the right choice. Ron was probably right when he said they would have destroyed the Vanishing Cabinet. Hogwarts is still the safest place to be. I'm-I'm sure Ron's fine."

"But . . . I heard . . . Harry, I heard a Killing Curse before we Disapparated. What if-"

"Don't, Hermione," Harry said, sharply. "Don't think like that. Ron's a Gryffindor. He got out of there. He's fine." He wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince more: Hermione or himself.

Hermione lit her wand and they began the trek up to the castle. The woods around them were dark and sinister looking, which was doing nothing to ease their fears. Harry leaned heavily on Hermione, his ankle aching in pain. "You okay?" he asked her after they had been walking for a while.

"I should be asking you that," she said, nodding toward his ankle. "Do you want me to look at it?"

"I should be all right," Harry assured her. "Once we get to the school, I'll get it fixed."

"Are you sure Madam Pomfrey will even be there?"

Now there was something he hadn't considered. What if they got to the castle and it was deserted? He was sure the house-elves probably lived at the castle, but he had assumed that the teachers stayed during the summer holiday as well.

"Well, if she's not, we'll get to find out how skilled you are as a Healer," Harry said jokingly.

Suddenly, there was the sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs coming from the woods ahead of them. Harry quickly raised his wand, letting go of Hermione and balancing unsteadily on one foot to allow her to get to hers. A fleeting hope entered Harry's mind.

"Do you think . . . ?" he began, and Hermione glanced at him.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_ they yelled in unison. A silver stag shot out of Harry's wand, followed by a shimmery and silky looking otter from Hermione's. The stag started trotting off into the forest, the otter bounding playfully beside it, and disappeared into the woods. If it was Ron, or another Order member, they would send their Patronus back. Harry and Hermione waited, praying that it was someone on their side. When there was no return Patronus, Harry started racking his brain for all the defensive spells he would have to use. He was planning a method of attack, when Hermione whispered, "There!"

A small, grey shape was making its way out of the woods toward them. It stopped at the edge, looked around for a moment, and then bounded toward Harry and Hermione excitedly, wagging its tail. It shimmered slightly and then disappeared. The two of them exchanged glances.

"Er... did you ever bother to ask Ron what his Patronus was?" Harry asked, sheepishly.

"Yes," Hermione answered, surprising him. She lowered her wand. "It's a dog. Which, to me, would make sense. Ron _is_ very protective, and loyal." She put Harry's arm over her shoulder again, taking the weight off his injured leg. "Come on," she said, and started toward the woods. They were just about to enter the trees when there was a shout of "_Lumos!"_ and a light hit their faces. Harry blinked against the sudden brightness.

"Harry? Hermione? Is-is that you?" asked a frightened voice that Harry immediately recognized as Ron's.

"Yes, it's us! What do you think the Patronuses were for?" he answered, relieved. "Put your wand down! You're blinding us!"

The light was removed and Harry and Hermione tried to blink Ron into focus. He was very pale and his hair was disheveled, and it looked like he had a split lip. "Bloody hell, you two scared me half to death!" he panted. He took in the two of them, noticing that Hermione had to help Harry remain upright. "What happened to you?"

"Fell when we Disapparated," Harry explained. "Hurt my ankle. You?"

Ron wiped the blood away from his mouth. "Apparated into a bush, I think." He blushed. "I tried to Apparate to the school, but I think it... bounced me back somewhere." He stared at Hermione, who had remained awfully quiet. "Aren't you going to huff at me and remind me that I can't Apparate onto school gr-oooph! Get off me, Hermione, I'm fine!"

Hermione had pounced on Ron and enveloped him in a huge hug. "Oh, Ron! We were so worried! I heard a Killing Curse . . ." She trailed off and burried her head deeper into Ron's shoulder.

Ron looked unsure of what to do for a few seconds, but then hugged her back just as fiercely. "We're all okay now, 'Mione." He pulled away from her and looked back toward Harry, who was leaning against a tree for support.

"Want some help?" he said, helping Harry to a standing position.

"Thanks," Harry answered, putting his arm around Ron's shoulder. They re-lit their wands and started back onto the trail. "Seems you had the same idea we did," he continued.

"Er... not really," Ron admitted. "I kind of tried to Apparate to you lot. I guess concentrating on people instead of places isn't the best idea. Like I said, I think I Apparated onto the wards around the school. Next thing I knew I was in the forest."

Something was nagging at Harry, and he couldn't help but ask, "How come you never told me your Patronus was a dog? What if you and I had gotten separated and we didn't have Hermione?"

Ron blushed again. "I dunno... and it's not a dog, really... I think it's a Crup."

"Crups have forked tails," Hermione reminded him. Ron glared.

"Ron," Harry asked, trying hard not to laugh, "did you not want to tell me because you think it's... I dunno... Not impressive, or something?"

Ron gave a one shouldered shrug.

"I like it," Hermione told him. "Jack Russels are cute."

That didn't help Ron's mood one bit. "They're not cute! I tried to look stuff up about them... They're, er, really hyper, apparently. And... they'll bite."

Harry snorted and Hermione shot him a withering look

"They do!" Ron insisted.

"Jack Russels are playful and loyal," Hermione said. "There's nothing wrong with your Patronus, Ron."

"Yeah," Harry quipped. "Playful and loyal, that's you."

"I'm going to drop you," Ron threatened.

"And it goes really well with Hermione's otter."

Ron half shrugged again. "Yeah, I guess. I mean... what?"

This time Harry did laugh. Hermione shushed him.

"We're not in the clear yet," she hissed. "Keep quiet!"

Ron and Harry fell silent and the three of them continued up the trail. Harry figured they had probably walked about half a mile when the gates of Hogwarts castle loomed into view.

_Home_, Harry thought, happily. It felt so good to see those gates again, and to know that Hogwarts lay just beyond them. Hermione waved her wand and sent her Patronus through the gates and up toward the school.

"Professor McGonagall _should_ be there," Hermione said, hopefully. "She's Headmistress now, after all. I'm-I'm sure there's loads of things she needs to take care of."

"Hagrid will be, whether she is or not," Harry said. "And he's a member of the Order. So, either way, we're safe."

Hermione nodded, but she still looked doubtful.

"This is all my fault," Harry muttered. "I fell asleep-"

"We _all_ fell asleep, mate," Ron pointed out. "We should have been back at the Burrow right after we got done, but we just..." He shrugged.

"We were careless," Hermione finished. "I think we still feel like nothing can harm us. Like everything's going to be okay. We came face to face with Voldemort tonight." Ron shuddered. "Hopefully we won't make mistakes like that again."

"Yeah, hopefully," Harry sighed.

At that moment, Harry noticed a shimmery something coming from the castle. He nudged Ron. The three of them stared as the thing flew down toward the gate.

"It's an owl," breathed Hermione.

"They sent us an owl?" Ron asked incredulously. "What bloody help is that?"

"No," Harry answered, smiling. "It's a Patronus."

The owl was so silvery bright it was almost white, and it glided gracefully toward the three friends. It flapped its wings twice and settled down on top of the gates to the school. The owl dissipated, and the gates imeadiately opened.

"That's new," muttered Ron.

"It must be McGonagall," Hermione said. "New protections... maybe only an Order member's Patronus can open them now?"

She and Ron helped Harry trudged forward. The gates swung shut with a loud clang behind them as quickly as they had opened, and they started up the grounds toward the school. A feeling of calmness enveloped Harry as he took in Hogwarts. It felt like he hadn't been there in years. Still... a gaping hole was in that calm. _Dumbledore should be here_, Harry thought, miserably. _**His** Patronus should have opened up the gates. _They had barely taken more then ten steps when a large shape appeared out of the doors to the entrance. Harry grinned, as Ron and Hermione waved toward the figure.

"Over here!" Hermione shouted. "Harry needs help!"

"Thank Merlin you lot are alrigh'!" a gruff voice called back, crossing the grounds in no more than four huge steps. "Wha' did yeh think yeh were doin', eh? Coulda been killed! Molly was havin' kittens..."

Suddenly, Harry was scooped up off the ground and into a large, moleskin coat. "Hagrid!" Harry tried to object, but it came out more like a muffled: "Hoogle!"

"Wha' happened?" the half-giant asked as he carried Harry toward the castle. Ron and Hermione had to run to keep up.

"Well, we - er - fell asleep," Ron began, but Hermione interrupted:

"Broken ankle. He fell when we Disapparated. It was only my second time doing Side-long, and when we broke off he was kind of still spinning . . ."

"It's alrigh', Hermione," Hagrid reassured her. "Don't blame yerself. Lucky Poppy's still 'ere . . ."

Hagrid remained silent as they entered the castle and the doors closed behind him. He started carrying Harry up the stairs to the Hospital Wing, and Ron and Hermione made to follow, but Hagrid turned back around. "Sorry, you two. Professor McGonagall left me strict orders that yeh were to go up to her office."

"How did she know...?" Ron started, before realizing that was probably a dumb question. "Right. It's us."

Hagrid's beetle black eyes crinkled in a smile. "Don't worry about, 'Arry," he assured them, hugging him closer. Harry was definitely sure he heard a few more bones crack.

"We're not worried," Hermione said. "We're home." She tugged on Ron's sleeve, urging him toward the other direction as Hagrid continued carrying an exasperated looking Harry toward the Hospital Wing.

"Yeah," Ron said, quietly, as they walked toward the Headmistress' office, "I'm more worried about _us_."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione sighed. "I'm sure she just wants to make sure we're alright."

Ron snorted. "If that were true, why didn't she just let us come along with Hagrid and talk to all three of us up at the hospital?" He shook his head. "No. We're in trouble. The school year hasn't even started and she's probably already going to give us detention."

Hermione threw him a withering look. "She can't possibly do that, Ron. I'm sure it's against the rules. This is Order business."

"Yeah. But _we're_ not in the Order yet, are we?"

They continued toward what was once Dumbledore's office with trepidation. Ron was just wondering how they were supposed to get in without the password, when they rounded the corner and found Professor Minerva McGonagall waiting for them. McGonagall was famous for her stern, icy glares. But the once she fixed upon the two friends now could have put the world into its second ice age.

"Er..." Ron began. "How's your summer been?"

Hermione averted her eyes and let out an almost inaudible groan.

McGonagall's glare darkened. "In," she ordered, nodding in the direction of the office. She muttered the password to the gargoyle, which moved aside to reveal a rotating staircase. McGonagall waited for Ron and Hermione, and then stepped in after them. Ron had been in Dumbledore's - no _McGonnagall's -_ office only twice in his schooling at Hogwarts. For Hermione, having never gotten into enough trouble to warrant a visit, this was her first time and at first she stared around at all the portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses, including Armando Dippet, Sirius' great-grandfather Phineas Nigellus, and Dai Llewellyn. When her eyes fell on the portrait of Dumbledore, casually snoozing in his frame above McGonagall's desk, she gasped slightly and moved aside for Ron and Professor McGonagall.

McGonagall shut the door the indicated to Ron and Hermione to sit down. She then sat down herself behind the desk and sighed tiredly. "Potter is in the hospital?" she asked.

Ron and Hermione blinked and exchanged glances. "Um, yes, Professor," Hermione answered. "When we Apparated, he fell and we think he broke his ankle."

"Who, exactly, is 'we'?" McGonagall asked. "All three of you tried Side-Long together?"

"Oh, no," Hermione explained. "That's much too dangerous."

"As dangerous as, say, putting yourself in a position where you come face to face with You-Know-Who?"

Hermione became silent. Ron shot her a look that said, _I told you so._

"I'm waiting," McGonagall said.

"I..." Hermione began. "I don't know what to say, Professor."

McGonagall sighed again. "With whom was Potter Apparating with?"

"Me," Hermione said quietly. McGonagall's glare softened a bit.

"It's not your fault Potter is injured, Miss Granger. I'm not trying to place blame here. However, you all knew the importance of being somewhere safe tonight. In fact, the Weasleys informed me that you promised to return well before Potter's birthday. Molly is quite beside herself. She didn't notify us earlier because she wanted Potter to spend time with his family. When midnight came and went and you still did not return, she notified the Order at once. Potter, more than anyone, knew the seriousness of his approaching birthday." The iciness in her voice was returning. "And Dumbledore did not die so that the three of you could gamble your lives to recklessly. Now, I want to know exactly what happened tonight."

Hermione bit her lip and looked down while Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"Well?" McGonagall prompted.

"We, er..." Ron started. "We fell asleep."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "You fell asleep," she repeated, slowly.

"Uh... yeah," Ron answered lamely.

"Harry needed to talk to his aunt, Professor," Hermione said, boldly.

"So I keep hearing. May I ask what information was so important that it was worth risking your lives?"

Suddenly "He wanted to know why Snape almost crashed his parent's wedding" no longer seemed the good excuse that it had been yesterday.

"It's..." Hermione exchanged glances with Ron. "It was a family thing, Professor."

McGonagall blinked. "So, Potter went to go see his family because of a... 'family thing'?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances again. McGonagall sighed.

"I understand that Potter is your friend," she said, "and that you have a certain... loyalty to him and wish to protect him. Might I remind you that school is out for the summer and you are not facing detention. We're all on the same side."

"With all due respect, Professor, why do you need to know what Harry and his aunt talked about?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger, has it not occurred to you that You-Know-Who could have lured Potter-"

"He wouldn't have," Hermione interrupted. Ron stared. "Why would he trick Harry into going to a place where he can't be touched?"

"Molly mentioned Potter having dreams," McGonagall said after a while.

"Yeah," Ron answered. "But not about Vold- uh, You-Know-Who. And Harry thinks they're just nightmares because of what happened... in June..." He glanced up at the slumbering portrait of Dumbledore.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Harry had questions about his parents, Professor. And, about the, er . . arrangement of him coming to live with his Aunt and Uncle."

"He wanted to know about the letters," Ron interjected, exasperated. Hermione glared at him.

"Letters?" asked McGonagall.

"Between his aunt and Dumbledore," Ron explained.

"Ah," McGonagall nodded.

"Did you know about them?" asked Hermione.

"Dumbledore always kept his... 'plan' for Potter secret in case anything leaked out. I assumed Petunia Dursley knew vaguely about what was going on, or she would not have accepted Potter."

"Well, that was why we went. Because he couldn't go on his own, obviously. And he needed information," Hermione started again. "It wasn't easy getting her to talk, especially about Harry's mum, so afterward we were just so exhausted that we just wanted to rest. And the next thing we knew it was almost midnight."

"Why didn't you just go back to the Burrow to rest? Or Headquarters?" McGonagall pointed out.

Ron and Hermione remained silent. After a while, Hermione admitted, "We didn't think about that."

"Well, I think that's fairly obvious."

"I don't know," Hermione continued. "It's almost as if we still don't think anything can hurt us. I mean... Dumbledore's gone. And the three of us have been so lucky. It's made us-"

"Arrogant?" McGonagal asked.

"Maybe. But, we're all seventeen now. We also can't be protected forever. And Harry has a right to know about his parents."

"Be that as it may-"

"Professor... he has to go up against Voldemort eventually. We can't keep hiding Harry from things that we think will hurt him or upset him. He's had to deal with a lot. And he's going to have to deal with much more."

McGonagall looked at her for a moment. Then, she gave Hermione a small smile and said, "Who says Gryffindor's can't be wise?"

The three of them sat regarding each other while the portraits snoozed happily in their frames. After a while McGonagall said, "You've been awfully quiet, Mr. Weasley."

Ron grinned slightly in Hermione's direction. "Yeah, that usually happens when she gets going."

Hermione went pink.

-------------

_Why does she always give me the same bed,_ Harry thought. _Every time I wind up wind up in the hospital, I swear I always get this same bed._

Madam Pomfrey had spent twenty minutes tending to Harry's ankle. Nineteen of those minutes consisted of a lecture about Harry's apparent obsession to die before the age of twenty-five. The remaining minute was spent healing his ankle. He then had to fight against being given a dreamless-sleep potion, Madam Pomfrey convinced he was entirely too traumatized by his ordeal to be able to rest properly. Hagrid finally convinced her to let him alone, and she had only tutted a little before retreating to her office. Harry then had to endure Hagrid's questioning of the nights events.

"Yeh were careless, tha's all there is to it," Hagrid had said, sternly.

After Harry had relayed the nights events to him, Hagrid asked him why he had even bothered to go back to the Dursleys to begin with.

"Can' understand why yeh'd want to go back there, 'Arry. Ter be honest, I'm righ' glad that you're outta their care. Never understood why Dumbledore put yeh with 'em."

Harry let Hagrid ramble on some more about the Dursleys, smiling occasionally, happy to be back at Hogwarts even if it was after such dire circumstances, when a something occurred to him.

"Hagrid," Harry had asked, "you were Groundskeeper when my parents were at Hogwarts, right?"

Hagrid had beamed brightly. "Yep. Best Quidditch player I'd ever seen, you're dad. Besides maybe you, o' course. And you're mum was the cleverest witch in 'er year. I remember-"

"Slughorn said that she was really good at Potions," Harry had interrupted.

Hagrid had blinked, and then started shifting his feet. "Lily was good at a lot o' things, 'Arry. She was Head Girl, remember."

"I was just wondering... because of something my Aunt said to me." Harry decided that he could trust Hagrid - Dumbledore always had - and told him that Aunt Petunia had let slip before he went to the Burrow that Snape had made an appearance at the Potters wedding.

"What does that have to do with Lily an' Potions?" Hagrid had asked.

Harry didn't reply after that, deciding that he didn't really want to approach that subject after all. And, for some reason, it seemed Hagrid didn't really want to either. Hagrid had left a little while after that, and Harry was pondering why, exactly, he wanted to know about the reasons behind Snape and Lily's conversation, but at the same time, not really wanting to find out. Madam Pomfrey still hadn't come out of her office to dismiss him, so he was laying in "his" bed, staring at the ceiling, when Ron, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall finally arrived.

"I'm not going to have to tell the story again, am I, Professor?" Harry asked jokingly.

McGonagall fixed him with a stern look that didn't quite meet her eyes. "As much as I would like to lecture you, Potter, on the idiocy of your actions . . . I think the message has sunk in. The three of you are to rest here until morning, and then you are going to Floo to Headquarters. Remus sent word just before we came to see you that they've returned, mostly in one piece."

Harry's stomach clenched and he looked down. "I'm sorry."

McGonagall sighed. "It was bound to happen sooner or later, Potter. Perhaps this was for the better. But we all have to be more alert now. This won't be the last time that he tries."

"It wasn't the first either," Harry reminded her with a small smile. "And I survived then, too."

"Yes . . . well. Let us hope that you continue to 'survive', Potter. Now, the three of you go to Gryffindor tower and get some rest. The new password is 'Nit-wit'."

Harry grinned. "He'd like that, Professor."

McGonagall nodded at the three of them, and then left the Hospital Wing. Figuring he was free to go, Harry climbed out of bed and gingerly tested his newly healed ankle.

"All right, mate?" asked Ron.

Harry put more weight on it and took a few steps. "Perfect. C'mon, let's go."

The three friends walked the dark and empty halls of the castle in silence. When they reached Gryffindor Tower, the Fat Lady did nothing but stare at them reproachfully before swinging forward. Harry figured that McGonagall had informed the portrait to expect some visitors, and felt a pang of guilt at the trouble he, Ron, and Hermione had caused everyone.

When they got through the portrait hole, they said goodnight and went imeadiately upstairs to the dormitories. Two of the five beds had been made up and a fire was going. _House-elves_, thought Harry, with yet another pang. He and Ron undressed silently, bid each other goodnight, and got into bed. But Harry couldn't sleep, and spent the night thinking of the danger he had put himself, his friends, and the Order into. His mission to destroy the horcruxes almost ended before it had even begun because of his curiosity and carelessness. McGonagall had said that the Order had returned to Headquarters mostly in one piece, which meant there had been casualties. He was starting to worry about Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley. It wasn't until dawn that his mind finally shut down from exhaustion, and he fell into a restless sleep.

------------

Harry didn't wake the next day until around noon to find Ron's bed empty and a tray of food by his own. He yawned, dressed in the clothes he'd had on yesterday, put on his glasses, and padded his way down to the Common Room, tray in hand. As he looked for Ron and Hermione, Harry thought to himself that he had never seen the Common Room look more empty. He spotted them in their usual place by the fire, engrossed in a heated discussion. It was nothing new to see Hermione and Ron arguing. To not see them arguing in a volume that could be heard halfway around the world, however, was something of a surprise. _Which means they're talking about me_, Harry thought, already getting annoyed. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't hear Harry approach, and jumped when he put his tray down and took a seat.

"Morning," Harry said, taking a piece of toast and biting into it.

Ron nodded back in greeting, while Hermione smiled warmly and said, "I think it's a bit past morning. How'd you sleep?"

Harry looked at her.

"I figured as much. I didn't sleep all that well either."

Harry put down his toast and said, "Just say it already - whatever you two were talking about when I came downstairs."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. Then Ron shook his head, crossed his arms, and leaned back into his armchair. Hermione sighed.

"Ronald and I were having a... discussion about, er..." Hermione began. Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Well, about the book."

"What book?" Harry asked, taking another bite of toast, although he knew very well what she was talking about. It made his stomach clench unpleasantly.

"The book," she repeated. "Snape's book."

"No way," Harry said automatically.

Hermione scowled. "You don't even know what I was going to say about it yet."

"Yes I do, because I know you."

Ron shot Hermione alook. Hermione pressed on:

"I thought we discussed this back at the Burrow. You need to know as much as you can about Snape. And . . . while I found that your using that book during Potions to be unethical-"

"Annoying's, more like," quipped Ron, "because Harry was getting better grades than you."

"-and dangerous . . ." Hermione continued, as if Ron hadn't spoken, "and, well, we know now that the Prince _was_ dangerous . . . I think that using it _now_ would be an opportunity. Who knows what other spells Snape put in there, Harry? You can't deny it would be useful."

"Wanna bet," Harry said, stubbornly.

"Look, mate, I tried to tell her you wouldn't hear anything about it," Ron offered. "But, you know how she is."

Hermione bristled. "Yes. Yes, well all know how I am, don't we? How I can not be judgmental, and toss out a possible way to better Harry's chances of survival just because it's _Severus Snape's_ old potion book."

"I think you're being very hypocritical," said Harry. "No more than two months ago, you probably would have chucked that book in the fire. You hated it. Thought the Prince was horrible and told me not to go around using his spells. And now you want me to study it?"

"Why did you keep all your old Potion's notes, Harry?" Hermione demanded.

Harry stopped short. "Sorry?"

"Your notes from Snape's classes. Well . . . my notes really, but that's not the point. They were from Potion's class. Mainly, _Snape_'s Potion's class. Why did you keep them?"

"Because I thought they'd come in useful," muttered Harry.

"But they're Snape's. Why didn't you throw all of _them_ in the fire, like I apparently wanted to do to his book? Which, by the way, you just hid."

"Yeah, because I didn't know at the time who's book it was," Harry argued.

"No, Harry, it was because he hadn't killed Dumbledore yet!"

Harry started tugging at the locket around his neck. "Yeah, well . . . that's why I never did go back after it, before we left."

Hermione sighed. "You're missing the point, Harry. If Snape hadn't killed Dumbledore, and you found out later that it was Snape's book, would you still be acting this way about using it? It would probably make you want to go get it more, because you'd know it would infuriate him if he found out about it. Which it did, if you remember correctly. You liked that book, Harry. You liked the Prince. And now . . . it hurts. And even though you know that there could be tons of really useful spells and counter-curses, you won't even consider using it because it hurts . . . because it's his."

Harry stared into the fire. She was absolutely right, and he knew it. The book had betrayed him. Everything he had thought about the Prince - that he was cool, that he was brilliant - had been about Snape. Harry didn't understand how he could admire someone one instant, and then go down to the dungeons for class and hate that same person with every bone in his body. The Prince and Snape seemed so different. And he felt like if he used the book, even to defeat Voldemort, even just to revel in seeing how it would infuriate Snape, it would be betraying Dumbledore somehow. _Dumbledore_, thought Harry. _What would he want me to do?_

_He'd tell me to do whatever it took to win the war_.

He looked back over to Ron and Hermione, who were staring at him intently. Then he sighed.

"You're right, Hermione," he admitted. "Even though I don't like it, you're right. And Dumbledore would want me to do whatever necessary. So, after breakfast - lunch, whatever - I'll . . ." He paused, swallowing the impulse to change his mind and tell Hermione she was crazy. "I'll go get the book."

Hermione smiled. "I'm proud of you, Harry." Ron just shrugged and nicked a bit of Harry's food.

"Speaking of," he said through a mouthful of egg, "McGonagall's going down to the slimey git's office this afternoon sometime before we leave, I think."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "So?"

"Well, they're trying to get it open, from what I hear," Ron explained. "Snape warded the place. It's taken her and some of the other Order members weeks to get them down. They want to search it; see if anything useful or important is in there."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Just thought you'd want to go and have a look for yourself. I do. I'd love to set fire to place, actually, but I doubt they'll let me. Shame, too."

"One step at a time, mate," said Harry. "It's bad enough that I'm going to get that bloody book."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, if you tell me where in the Room of Requirement you hid it, I could go get it for you. That way, you could go down to Snape's office instead and see what you can dig up." She grinned and stole a bit of Harry's toast herself, popping it into her mouth. Harry stared at her incredulously.

Ron shook his head. "Best not to argue with her, mate. It's an art form, see. I think I'm about the only one who's gotten in down by now."

"And you still always loose," Hermione pointed out.

Ron winked at her. "At least we know I'm good at something."

---------------

Later that afternoon, while they were waiting for Lupin to arrive to take them back to Grimmauld Place, Hermione went off to the Room of Requirement with Harry's instructions, and Harry and Ron made their way down to the dungeons.

"It's even creepier when there's no one here," muttered Ron as they walked down the stairs that lead to their old Potion's classroom. "Think Hermione will be able to get in?"

Harry snorted. "She's Hermione. It's not hard . . . I just told her to think of a place to hide something, and it should become the room it was for me. I told her exactly where I stashed it. I'm sure she'll have it in no time."

"Hoping she won't?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Look, I'm with you, okay? I think going to get that book is dumb-"

"No," Harry sighed, "it's not dumb. It's just . . . hard."

"You don't have to use it, you know."

"I probably won't," admitted Harry. "At least not yet. Not till I'm ready."

They rounded a corner to find the office door open. They peered inside to find McGonagall and Slughorn facing a door that Harry assumed lead to Snape' old private quarters.

McGonagall heard them approach and turned. Upon seeing who it was, her face turn into it's usual scowl.

"What do you think you two are doing down here? Remus should be soon. Potter especially needs to be somewhere where he'll be safe."

"Someone once told me that there's no safer place to be than Hogwarts," Harry said, grinning.

McGonagall scowled some more, but Slughorn laughed.

"Harry, m'boy! Hagrid informed me of your little misadventure last night. Just like your father, you are," he said happily, mustache puffing.

_Funny_, thought Harry, _last year I was just like my mum._

"Thought you might need some help," Ron said.

Slughorn and McGonagall raised their eyebrows. "Mr. Weasley, I assure you, that if myself and other members of the Order cannot break into these quarters, it's highly doubtful that you and Mr. Potter could provide much use."

"Actually," Harry said, slowly, having a thought. "Hermione's just gone to get something that might help."

"Really?" asked Slughorn. "I'm intrigued. Just what miraculous gift is Miss Granger bearing?"

"Er... it's a book. One of his books," Harry told them, indicating Snape's room.

McGonagall and Slughorn looked dubious.

"Well, what are you doing to get in?" Ron asked.

McGonagall's lips thinned. "Plenty of disarming charms that you wouldn't be able to attempt for many, many more years, Mr. Weasley."

Ron blushed.

"Professor . . . since you're Headmistress now, shouldn't it let you in anyway?"

"Under any other circumstances, yes. Offices and storerooms will automatically open to the Head of the School upon being ordered to do so. However, private rooms do not fall under that rule, as you can imagine. Although I'm seriously considering making an amendment to that rule," she added angrily, glaring at the door.

"Is it passworded?" Harry asked.

"Now, really!" McGonnagal shouted. "The two of you - well, the three of you, counting Miss Granger - have always taken it upon yourselves to deal with matters that do not concern you. I don't see why-"

"I watched him murder Dumbledore," Harry said flatly. "If anyone has a right to see what he's been keeping in there, I do." He shrugged. "I doubt there's anything of importance in there anyway. Snape's not stupid. He would have taken anything that he needed. It probably just automatically warded itself when he left to go up to the Astronomy Tower."

Slughorn's mustached puffed again. "That's exactly what I said, but Minerva insisted-"

"He's a criminal now, Horace. This room needs to be searched. Besides, we can't have a useable room warding itself against anyone and everyone."

"Have you tried guessing the password?" asked Harry.

"Mr. Potter, do you think I'm daft?"

"Could I try, please?"

McGonagall looked quite put out. "Mr. Potter, the reason we have had to take these wards down manually is because we've tried-"

"Please," he said, forcefully.

McGonagall pursed her lips and glared at him for a moment.

"It can't make them come down any slower, Minerva," Slughorn pointed out.

"Fine," said McGonagall. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but see what you can do, then."

She and Slughorn moved aside. Harry glanced at Ron, who gave him an encouraging nod. Harry stared at the door and tried to think of all the possible things that Snape would have used as a guard word. The easiest and simplest came to his mind first, which was also one that Professors McGonagall and Slughorn probably hadn't tried.

"Half-Blood Prince," Harry said to the door. Nothing happened, except that McGonagall and Slughorn looked at him oddly.

"Half-blood what?" asked McGonagall.

"It was his nickname," Ron waved her off. "Don't ask us. Long story. Go on, Harry."

"Um . . . _The_ Half-Blood Prince?" Harry tried again.

Still nothing.

"Half-blood . . . The Prince . . ."

"I think we've established that's not working," McGonagall snapped.

Harry blew air between his lips, frustrated. "Alright then, um, _Sectumsempra _. . . _Muffliato_ . . ." Harry racked his brain. "_Levicorpus_?_"_ he tried.

The door remained firmly in place. Ron shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"No. I can do this," Harry insisted. He glared at the door. "I hate James Potter!" he yelled at it. McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"Potter, although you probably don't want to hear it, Severus Snape is a very intelligent man," McGonagall stated. "I appreciate that you want to help, but if there is a password to his quarters, I doubt that you or anyone else will be able to guess it. He was very private, and as passwords are not things that are supposed to be easy things to access, I think I can be so arrogant as to say that no one will be able to, er, 'crack the code'." She came forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Potter. Thank you for trying."

"How did you know his nickname?" Slughorn asked.

"From the book that Hermione's bringing," Ron answered. "We found it."

Harry shot him a look.

"Hmmm... not like Severus to leave his things lying around," Slughorn said. "Even back when he was a student. I'm assuming it was an old school book?"

Harry nodded.

"Very odd. Half-Blood Prince, you said? Hmmm... explains a lot, actually."

"What does?" Ron asked.

"I told you that your mother was excellent at Potions," he explained to Harry. "And, as you can imagine, so was Severus. They partnered a lot, those two. Not so much their first couple of years. Around third or fourth, you couldn't _give_ them another partner. And believe me, I tried." He laughed. "It seemed very strange to me, not just because they were a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, mind you. But because outside of Potions class I never saw them together."

"They never sat with each other in my Transfiguration classes," McGonagall added.

"Maybe they both just liked Potions a lot," Ron suggested. "Probably hated each other outside of class."

"Especially when he went around calling her 'Mudblood'," Harry said, angrily.

Slughorn laughed again. "Severus Snape call Lily Evans a Mudblood? Never!"

Harry stared at him. "I saw- I mean, Sirius told me that he did. He told me about fifth year, down by the lake-"

McGonagall groaned. "I remember that. I took one hundred points from Gryffindor. James Potter may have been popular when he was at Hogwarts, but not that day."

"Why do you think he wouldn't call her a Mudblood, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Lily was always coming to Severus' defense when James, Sirius, and the others would play their pranks," McGonagall told them. "Perhaps he felt he ought to be a gentleman."

_Not bloody likely_, Harry thought.

"For all the good it did him," she continued, a hint of anger in her voice this time. "James never missed an opportunity to trap Severus in some prank or another."

"By Merlin, did those two hate each other!" Slughorn chuckled. "I thought James and Severus were going to start their own wizarding war. It really is a shame you didn't get to know your parents, my boy. For the stories, if nothing else. Well, Minerva, I don't know about you, but I could do for a spot of lunch. I'm sure Severus' door won't mind." He winked and waddled back toward the door that lead to the dungeons.

"Wait, Professor," Harry started, jogging back into the hallway. "What does his nickname have to do with this?"

"Ah!" said Slughorn. "She called him 'Prince' one time, Lily did. Couldn't for the world figure out what she was on about." He shrugged.

McGonagall shook herself out of her nostalgic reverie and came beside Slughorn. "This book Miss Granger's bringing . . . I'd like to have a look at it, if you don't mind."

_Damn_, thought Harry. "Er . . ."

"That is not a request, Potter. Remus should be here within the hour. I want you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger in my office and ready to leave in thirty minutes."

And with that, the two Professors turned and made their way back up the stairs to the Entrance Hall.

Ron looked at Harry. "What do you reckon?" he asked.

"About what?"

Ron frowned at him. "You know what. Your mum knew is nickname, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "So? I bet loads of people knew it when he went to school."

"Don't be daft. He's a Slytherin. What, you think he and his pals went around the Slytherin Common Room letting everyone know he was half-blood? He's mates with Lucius Malfoy, Harry. I bet you all the gold in Gringotts that no one knew his dad was a Muggle."

Harry swallowed. "Except my mum, it looks like."

"Yeah." Ron thought for a moment. "You think maybe he told her, since she was Muggle-born herself?"

"Why would he? Yeah, Slughorn says they were partners in Potions, but it's not like they were best friends." Harry looked once more toward the door to Snape's quarters. "Come on, let's get out of here. Besides," he continued, as he and Ron were trekking up the stairs, "I don't care what Slughorn says, I heard him call her a Mudblood in that memory. So, why would he tell her that he's half-blood when he clearly hates everything that's not pureblood?" _Maybe even himself,_ Harry mused.

"Yeah, but if that were the case, why would he call himself the Half-Blood Prince?" Ron pointed out.

"Hermione answered that one for us last year. His mum's surname was Prince. So, he would have been proud to be half a Prince. Meaning, half of him was pure."

They trudged back to Gryffindor Tower, where they saw Hermione waiting for them at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Making his mind up about something, Harry grabbed Ron's arm before he could go any further and pulled him back around the corner.

"Ow!" yelled Ron. "What are you doing?"

"Shh!" Harry ordered. "I need to talk to you. Look, Ron . . . I know it's probably none of my business, but . . . you're my best mate. And Hermione's my friend, too."

Ron stared at him, bewildered. "What _are_ you going on about?" he asked.

Harry sighed. "Ron, are you mental or something?"

"What?"

"What is it going to take for you two to stop being stupid? We almost died yesterday. And . . . I know you think that I don't know. But, it's pretty obvious."

Ron shuffled his feet and glanced around the corner. "How obvious?"

Harry gave him a look. "It's so obvious that I'm sure Ginny had a similar conversation with Hermione sometime before we left the Burrow. Only I'm sure hers didn't involve almost being blown up."

Ron groaned and leaned against the wall. "I'm doomed."

Harry made a bemused face. "Why? Ron-"

"You don't get it, Harry. It's just . . . Hermione scares the hell out of me. I don't like the way she makes me feel; I don't know how to act, I hated hurting her last year. I don't even know why I did it! I mean, I was crazy about 'Mione." He shrugged, staring up into the ceiling. "I still am. I guess I thought I could just make it go away."

"Well, the two of you did try pretty hard the last three years."

Ron shook his head. "I didn't know I liked her so much until fifth year and we spent all that time at Headquarters."

Harry snorted. "Fourth year. Yule Ball. And don't even try to argue."

Ron opened his mouth, looking very much like he would like to.

"And I get exactly what you're saying about how Hermione makes you feel. Because Ginny makes me feel the same way," Harry added.

Ron imeadiately shut his mouth again.

Harry leaned against the wall beside his friend. "But you still have a chance with Hermione."

"You could still be with Ginny, too. She's miserable, you know. And you are, too."

"No, Ron. I can't be with her. And you know why. I won't be responsible for the death of another person I love, and that includes you two. I know I can't stop you and Hermione. But, I can stay away from Ginny. And that might keep her safe for that much longer. Like I said, everything almost ended yesterday. When are you going to tell her? Because who knows how many more close calls we're going to have. Who knows if that was our last. You still have some time with Hermione. Don't lose that."

He glanced over at Ron, who looked to be deep in thought, when he heard the sound of footfalls coming down the hallway.

"There you two are!" Hermione said, running over to them, waving the book. "Found it!"

Ron and Harry straightened up off the wall and exchanged glances.

"Great. Now you can turn around and hand it over to McGonagall," Harry said.

Hermione blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"We kind of let slip to McGonagall and Slughorn about it."

Hermione glared at the two of them. Ron, who was blushing furiously, muttered, "Sorry, but they were asking questions."

"Well, we'll just have to say we didn't find it. Harry needs this book. Besides, if they find out that he was using it in Potions all last year-"

Harry shook his head. "They'll do what? Expel me? I've already quit school. And I doubt very much McGonagall doesn't know that already."

"Well . . . can't we explain that you need the book?"

Harry shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. We can't tell her about the horcruxes . . . I promised Dumbledore. The only reason you two know about it is because he knew I would probably tell you anyway, and gave me permission. Besides, there are probably dark spells in that book. She won't want me using any of them anyway." He sighed. "We'll just have to hand it over, Hermione. Once she's done having a look, maybe we can ask for it back. Or, I could have Lupin ask for it . . . maybe persuade her that the Order should be able to see it, too, considering Snape was supposed to be one of our own."

"Or she could hand it over to the Ministry, and then we'll never see it again," Hermione argued.

The three fell silent for a moment, before Hermione sighed resignedly. "Fine. I guess we have no choice. But we need to get this book back somehow, Harry. Because I'm not just worried about you facing Voldemort. You're going to have to face Snape as well. And the key to defeating him may very well be in hidden somewhere in his book."

------------

Half an hour later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione (clutching Snape's book) trekked up the stairs to McGonagall's office, where Hagrid was waiting for them. Ron kept shooting furtive glances at Hermione, and Harry had half a mind to just shove them together, order them to start snogging, and be done with it. Hagrid let them in, and the three started up the revolving staircase. Harry knocked on the door when they arrived and entered at McGonagall's command.

The first thing Harry laid eyes on was Dumbledore's portrait, which almost made him walk right back out again. But, Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and urged him forward.

"Harry! Ron, Hermione!" Remus Lupin greeted them as all three made it through the door and shut it.

Harry grinned and hugged the werewolf. "Sorry about-"

"Please, don't apologize, Harry. Your James' son. I expect you to get yourself nearly killed at least ten more times this year," Remus joked, but Harry saw concern in his eyes.

Harry pulled away and gestured to the portrait of Dumbledore, who was snoring loudly in his frame.

"Has it woken up yet?" he asked McGonagall as she was taking the book away from a sullen looking Hermione.

She frowned at it. "Not a word. This is highly unusual. Portraits should start interacting almost imeadiately upon creation. Or, in this case, the death of their doppleganger."

Harry absent-mindedly started fingering the locket again.

"I've tried talking to him," McGonagall continued, "the other portraits have tried talking to him. I even had Aberforth come and try it, although he was quite disinclined to do so. I never much cared for that man. Anyway, nothing's worked."

"Well," Remus began, "I think we've imposed on Professor McGonagall long enough. Or, should I say 'Headmistress'."

McGonagall grimaced. "Please don't."

Remus laughed. "Come on then, you three. We're Flooing to the Burrow, and then Apparating from there to Headquarters. By the way, Ron, your mother says she's going to kill you."

Ron rolled his eyes. "She always says that. I should have died five hundred times already."

They thanked McGonagall and apologized again for what happened. Then, one by one, they took a handful of Floo powder, stepped into the fire, and were zoomed off to the Burrow. Hermione went first, then Ron, and then it was Harry's turn. He stepped into the fire, threw his Floo powder into it, and yelled "The Burrow!" when something very peculiar happened. McGonagall and Remus were both facing him and the fireplace, and in the split second it took for the words to leave his lips and the flames to surround him, Harry swore he saw Dumbledore's portrait, quite awake, put a finger to his lips and give him a wink before he was swept away.


	7. Godric's Hollow part one

Chapter Six

_Godric's Hollow_

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Lupin all arrived safely at the Burrow, and Harry and Hermione only had to endure a half hour of lecturing from Mrs. Weasley. Ron, however, being their son, bore the brunt of it for another half hour after that, and he joined Harry and Hermione in his bedroom later, very red and very ill tempered.

Harry was glad to be back at the Burrow, if only for a little while, before he moved to Grimmauld Place. The only downside was that now Ginny wasn't speaking to him at all, and Harry figured she was too angry with him because of the events on his birthday. This hurt Harry more than he thought it would. Now, he wouldn't even be able to see her as a friend.

"She'll get over it, mate," Ron assured him, as they were loading up Harry's suitcase. "Let her cool off and she'll come 'round."

Harry wasn't so sure.

Hermione had elected to remain at the Burrow instead of going home for the summer, something that Harry had noticed was, over the years, becoming more frequent. Hermione had been spending less and less time with her family during school breaks, and Harry began to wonder whether Hermione's magical abilities had started to take a toll on her Muggle parents and her relationship with them. Perhaps both Hermione and her parents had come to realize what having a witch in the family meant. She wasn't apart of their world anymore, and Harry suddenly felt a little angry at the Ministry for weeding out the Muggle-born children who possessed magical abilities and whisking them away to school, away from their parents and the world they were so used to. _It was fine for me_, Harry thought. _I was glad to be a wizard, I couldn't wait to get away from the Dursleys. But... I wonder if it was okay for Hermione. Or my mum. Her relationship with her sister ended because she was a witch._

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had been informed that Dumbledore had left no note or instructions as to who was to run the Order of the Phoenix should anything happen to him. So, it was by unanimous vote - almost - that Lupin had been elected head of the Order. The one exception had been Mad-Eye Moody, who felt the position belonged to him due to his status as an ex-Auror.

"We appreciate Mad-Eye, we really do," Mr. Weasley had said. "We just felt that he's a bit... eccentric."

Ron told them that was the understatement of the year. Unless that by "eccentric" they meant "mad as a hatter".

Harry wondered how Lupin could manage running the Order when he was supposed to be underground with the other werewolves, but Lupin mentioned later that after the battle at Hogwarts there was no way he would be able to return to the pack.

"Greyback would have told them everything," he explained. "But, I gave them my message, and hopefully a few of them listened." Harry commented that he sounded a lot like Hagrid when he was talking about his mission with the giants.

Lupin smiled. "Well, the two have a lot in common. Both races are untrusting of humans, especially the Magical population. Werewolves are ostracized from society and met with fear. The giants were almost destroyed by wizards, and are also greatly feared. Fear is bred from a lack of understanding, Harry. I'm sure you've heard the expression before."

There was also the question of whether Grimmauld Place was still safe from detection. Lupin answered that one as well.

"When a Secret-Keeper dies, they take their secret with them. So, they quite literally carry it to the grave," he explained.

Harry winced.

"I know it still hurts to hear it, Harry," Lupin said, putting an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Even after a few months time, the wound still runs very deep."

Harry nodded, reaching for the locket again. At Lupin's questioning look, he forced himself to stop. "What about bringing in new members?"

"Ah," Lupin said, running a hand through his greying hair, "that's the part that poses a problem. You see, since Dumbledore was Secret-Keeper, it does still protect us from being discovered. But, if we gather new members, they won't be able to join us at headquarters for that same reason. Dumbledore was the only one who could tell people where the Order was located. We're still trying to figure out what to do about that. We could either abandon Grimmauld Place and find a new residence for headquarters, and have a new Secret-Keeper, or we could still maintain headquarters there, but just find another way of communicating our meetings with the new members."

Harry was all for moving out of Grimmauld Place, but as Lupin was now in charge, that decision was up to him.

Later that afternoon, Harry re-packed all his belongings and carried Hedwig - safe again in her cage - down to the kitchen. The remaining Weasleys, Hermione, and Lupin were all waiting for him. Fred and George had of course returned to Diagon Alley and their booming business

"Arthur will come by later with your things, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley told him, giving him a hug. "It was so nice having you here, Harry. We're always happy to have you, and we'll see you again soon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Mr Weasley," Harry nodded in appreciation. He turned to Ron. "See you soon, mate?"

Ron nodded, and Hermione threw her arms around Harry and squeezed him tightly.

"We'll come with Mr. Weasley when he brings your things," she said.

Harry hugged her back and smiled. "Good."

He pulled away and gave a pointed look at Ron, who shifted uncomfortably. He then turned toward the last member of the Weasley's.

"Bye, Ginny," he said, giving her a weak smile.

She did not return it. "Take care of yourself, Harry," she said back, rather cooly.

Harry's smile faded. "Yeah. You, too."

He joined Lupin at the door, waved his final goodbye to the Weasleys and Hermione, and then the two walked to the Apparition point by the entrance to the Burrow. Harry held on to Lupin tightly, and then they were off to Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

------------

Sirius' old house was the same as it had always been, except for the new addition of a squealing Tonks that all but tackled Lupin as he and Harry walked through the door. She probably would have succeeded, had she not tripped - as usual - on the troll leg umbrella stand. Tonks fell to the floor with a crash, and Mrs. Black promptly started screaming her head off.

"Still haven't found a way to get rid of her?" Harry asked, grinning slightly. He righted the umbrella stand as Lupin helped Tonks to her feet.

"Unfortunately, no. Though, you'd think she'd be eager to leave, what with being woken up about two hundred times a day," he said to Tonks, teasingly.

"Merlin forbid I miss you," Tonks retorted, squeezing his hand.

"Yes, I'm sure you missed me terribly from this morning."

Harry laughed.

"I'm going to go turn her off," Tonks said, indicating the bellowing portrait. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hello, Tonks," Harry said back as she headed off down the hall. Harry turned back to Lupin, raising his eyebrows. "So... how's the Missus?"

Lupin pushed him playfully. "Ha ha, yes, very funny. Come to the kitchen. I have something to discuss with you. Moody and Shacklebolt are here as well, I think."

"Discuss with me?" Harry repeated, with a slight note of trepidation.

"Don't worry, it's nothing too serious," Lupin assured him, leading the way down the stairs. Harry followed. He tried not to look at his surroundings; being in Grimmauld Place was a painful reminder that Sirius was gone. A hollow, empty feeling was already settling in the pit of his stomach.

This would never be home.

As predicted, Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt were at the table when Lupin and Harry came downstairs.

"Ah, Potter," Moody began, gruffly. "Glad to see you're all in one piece, although it's not for your lack of trying to be otherwise."

Harry suppressed a sigh.

"Now, Mad-Eye," Lupin started, "Harry's already been through enough. He realizes the danger he put himself in. Now drop it."

"What about the danger he put everyone else in?" Moody demanded. "You almost in St. Mungo's, and Hapkirk d-"

Shacklebolt gave him a stern look. "That's enough, Mad-Eye."

Harry froze. "Someone was killed?"

The room fell silent.

"Answer me," Harry demanded.

Lupin sat in a chair at the table and shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, unfortunately, there was a casualty, but it was not your fault."

"How is it not my fault?" Harry felt panic rising inside him and he had no idea why. "You all came to rescue us, you wouldn't have been there if I hadn't gone back-"

"And you know that. We also knew what we were getting into when we signed on to be in the Order. And so did Hapkirk," Lupin told him. He sighed, and added, more gently, "Harry, people die in war. We fight in battle after battle... if someone didn't fall this time, they would have the next. Do you understand?"

Harry didn't understand at all. The utter pointlessness of the other night finally hit him like a ton of bricks. Someone had died. He had allowed Voldemort to kill yet another person. "It won't happen again," Harry vowed, out loud.

Mad-Eye huffed. "It better not. Of all the dim-witted things to do, Potter, honestly. Did you forget for a minute that it's you he's after?"

"No," Harry said, flatly.

"Well, next time use your brain."

_I wish Dumbledore were here_, Harry thought, glumly. The dark, dank kitchen echoed his feelings. God how he hated this place.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Well, we wanted to tell you that we've spoken to your Aunt and Uncle, and they've agreed, for their own protection, to be relocated to some place safe. Their identities have been changed, and we feel that they'll no longer be any kind of target for Voldemort," Lupin explained.

Harry stared at them. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon let you move them?" he asked, shocked.

"Well... your uncle was a little... put out by the idea, now that you mention it," Lupin admitted.

"Hmph," snorted Moody. "Ruddy pissed off, more like. Said we had no right to make them move out of their home."

"But your aunt seems to have... well, seen the light, I guess is a good way of putting it. After the events that she, er, 'happened' to witness out the window, she realized exactly what you and everyone else was up against, and probably also realized that Voldemort could use them to get to you," Lupin continued. "Voldemort is probably aware that you don't have good relations with the Dursleys, Harry. But I am sure it would hurt you terribly if anything were to happen to them."

"So, they agreed to be moved somewhere safer?" Harry asked.

Lupin nodded.

"Where did you send them?"

"Unfortunately, we can't even tell _you_ that, Harry. Just feel sure that no harm will come to them, and they are quite fine, and away from Privet Drive."

_I'm sure them up and moving caused a great bit of gossip,_ Harry thought. _Aunt Petunia should be pleased._ "Was there anything else?" he asked Moody, Lupin, and Shacklebolt.

Lupin sat up a little straighter. "Well... as you know, I've been, er, elected to try and run the Order now that Dumbledore's... departed."

"We all run it, in a way," Shacklebolt said. "Remus is in charge of giving out duties, validating plans, and the like."

"Harry, I know Dumbledore would have wanted you to be a part of this," Lupin continued. "You're of age now, and from what I hear you're not continuing school - which is something I am going to talk to you about later."

Harry gave him a wry smile.

"We want you to become a member of the Order. And, to be frank, I'd love your input. Dumbledore really believed in you, Harry. We could use you."

Harry blinked. "I dropped out after my sixth year. I haven't even-"

"Bollocks," said Mad-Eye. "You've got power and you've got talent, Potter. Dumbledore saw it. We can all see it."

"You produced a Patronus in your third year. You made it through the TriWizard tournament when you were fourteen," Lupin explained. "You've faced Voldemort, more than once, and lived to tell about it. Dumbledore trusted you with his life."

"You organized that Defense Against the Dark Arts club," Shacklebolt added.

"See? That's what I mean," Lupin agreed. "You're a leader, Harry. Defense Against the Dark Arts was your favorite subject. And - both fortunately and unfortunately - you have a tie to Voldemort. You understand him. You've... _studied _him."

Lupin looked pointedly at him, and Harry understood what he meant. Lupin must have known about his "lessons" with Dumbledore. "You really want me to become an Order member?"

"Absolutely," Lupin said.

A small flicker of happiness invaded the gloom the house had set upon Harry. "I'd love to. I want to help, I want to fight."

"That's the spirit," Mad-Eye said, approvingly.

"How do I join?"

"You just did. Lupin elected you, and Shacklebolt and I second it. You're in, Potter."

Harry looked at them. "That's it? Seriously?"

Lupin shrugged. "No one said we were fancy. Welcome aboard."

------------------

It was official. Harry totally and completely hated Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. No matter where he went in the three story town home, there wasn't a thing that didn't remind him of Sirius. The gaping hole kept getting larger and larger, and Harry found himself getting more depressed each day. The only thing he had to look forward to were Order meetings and spending time with Ron and Hermione again, who visited almost every day now that they could Apparate. They were usually accompanied by Mad-Eye, who had decided that it was his personal duty to make sure they didn't try and get themselves killed by Voldemort again. And it had seemed that Ron had indeed plucked up the courage to speak to Hermione. There was a lot more physical contact going on between the two, and they were spending a lot of time together when not with Harry. And most of that time involved Ron sleeping with his head in Hermione's lap as she read. Harry couldn't be anymore happier for them, even if it sometimes was a painful reminder of what he had lost with Ginny. And he was very glad that it hadn't seemed to change anything between the three of them. He hadn't been sure whether Ron and Hermione were going to turn into the snogfest that was Ron and Lavender.

Although everyone had repeatedly reminded him that Number 12 was now his, he would have given it up in a heartbeat. He was sorely tempted to give it to the Weasleys, as the home would be more than enough to house Molly, Arthur, Ron, and Ginny, and also the other four Weasleys and Fleur if they ever came to visit. Harry didn't think of including Percy, since it was becoming painfully obvious that the third eldest Weasley was never going to reclaim ties to his family. Harry loved the Burrow almost as much as he loved Hogwarts, but the Weasleys deserved better. Ron was, actually, quite keen on the idea.

"It's a Dark Wizards house and all, yeah, but it's pretty cool at the same time," he said. They were lounging on the floor in the old sitting room, flipping through some of the books that Lupin had accumulated. "Plus, maybe you'd be happier if we lived here, too. That way we'd see each other almost all the time, even if Hermione and I do go back to school."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry said, absent-mindedly.

"Plus, it would work out well if Voldemort really is after the lot of us now, with the Fidelius charm and all."

Something in Harry's mind imeadiately clicked.

"Ron," he said, excitedly, "you are bloody brilliant."

Ron blinked at him. "Thanks, mate. No idea what you're talking about, though. And you might want to tell Hermione I'm brilliant, if you get the chance, because I'm sure it will shock her to know she's not the only one."

But Harry was halfway out of the room and down the hall before Ron had finished talking.

He rushed down the stairs into the kitchen - which had become the unofficial Order meeting place - to find Lupin making himself some tea.

"Remus," Harry began, catching his breath. "I need to talk to you about something."

The day after Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place he had been - jokingly - ordered by Lupin to start referring to him by his first name, seeing as how Lupin had been best friends with Harry's father, and Harry was now considered an adult. It had taken a while for Harry - and Ron and Hermione as well - to get used to calling their former professor by his given name, but after a while, it had started to feel nice being friendly and on first name basis with one of his father's old friends.

"Yes, Harry, what can I do for you?" Lupin asked, stirring some cream into his tea. "Why are you in such a rush, is something wrong?"

Harry shook his head. "No, no, it's not anything bad. I've just had... well, it was Ron's idea, really, but anyway... we just had the most brilliant idea."

"Oh, really?" Lupin raised his eyebrows. "And what is this oh-so-brilliant idea about, then?"

"Well, since the house is protected by the Fidelius charm and all, it also protects the people living in it from being detected as well, right? That's why I'm here now, and you as well."

Lupin sipped his tea. "Yes, that's right."

"Alright, so, what I was thinking was, since it looks like Voldemort may come after Ron and Hermione to get to me, and the house is already protected by the Fidelius... why don't the Weasleys and the Grangers move in here? We have plenty of room. And, yeah, I know it's my house now and everything, but it's also Order headquarters, and I wanted to run it by you. I want Ron and Hermione, and their families, to be safe."

Lupin thought for a moment. "I think that is an excellent and very sound idea, Harry. I agree that the Weasleys and the Grangers should both probably be moved somewhere where they will be hidden. There is no telling whether Voldemort would come after them, but seeing as how Ron and Hermione are close to you, there is a very good chance. There's only one problem."

Harry's smile faded. "What's that?"

"Muggle repelling charms, like the ones that Hogwarts has around it. Sirius' father set them up so that Muggles wouldn't be able to find or see the house. The Grangers wouldn't be able to see it, for one, because of the Fidelius charm. And two, as soon as they got near it, the repelling charm would make them remember some kind of urgent appointment or meeting and they'd rush right off again."

"Damn, I forgot about that," Harry admitted. "But, it'll work for the Weasleys, they're here all the time. We'd just have to move them in. Can't we do something else for the Grangers? Maybe put a Fidelius Charm on their house, or something?"

"That's a possibility, but who would be their Secret Keeper? Harry, they're not familiar with our ways, and I think that telling them they need to go into hiding and suggesting that they allow us to perform a spell that wouldn't let anyone know where they are would... unsettle them," Lupin explained.

"But, we're at war. And I'm kind of in the center of it. Surely they want to be safe? I mean, damn, even the _Dursleys_ agreed to move!"

"I'm not even sure if they know what's going on, Harry, to be honest. That's something you're going to have to discuss with Hermione. I'm all for protecting them, believe me. And I will run your suggestion that the Weasleys move in here with Arthur and Molly, as well as key members of the Order. But when it comes to the Grangers... I'd discuss it with Hermione, as I said. Very good thinking, though, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry said, albeit a little glumly. He had thought for sure he had found a way to keep Ron and Hermione's families safe from Voldemort. "Where is Hermione, do you know?"

"She's not with Ron?" Lupin asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Hmmm... she's probably upstairs with Ginny."

Harry's stomach clenched. _Ginny, of course_. The Weasleys, minus Bill and Charlie, were at Grimmauld Place for the weekend, because the Order was calling a meeting that evening with just it's most influential and most trustworthy members. Professor McGonnagal, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Moody, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, and of course Lupin were the only ones that were going to be in attendance. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had tagged along to visit Harry. Well... Ron and Hermione had, at least. Ginny had done a very good job of avoiding Harry for most of the day.

Harry climbed the stairs up to the floor where Ginny and Hermione were rooming together and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Hermione answered, and Harry swung the door open and stepped inside. Fortunately - or unfortunately... Harry couldn't decide - Ginny was absent, and Hermione was alone sitting next to her trunk, organizing her books.

"Hey, Harry," she greeted him, checking the title on the book she was holding. She moved some things around in her trunk, and then placed it in with the others.

Harry sat down on her bed and watched her for a while. "Hermione," he asked, finally, "what are you doing?"

"Alphabetizing my books," she answered. "Sometimes I do that when I'm stressed. I'll dump them all out and then resort them again." She looked up at Harry meekly. "I know it's kind of stupid. Please don't tell Ron-"

Harry shook his head. "It's not stupid. We all have our things. And I won't tell Ron, if you don't want me to."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks. It's just... a lot of things I do annoy him already, and I... well, we've just finally realized..." She sighed. "I don't want to ruin it."

Harry nodded, thinking of Ginny. "I understand."

Hermione returned to her small mountain of text, and Harry continued watching her again, trying to think of how to phrase what he needed to ask her.

"I know you didn't come here to watch me organize my textbooks," Hermione said. "Did you need to talk to me about something?"

"Yeah, sort of," Harry answered. "I just... don't know how to put it, I guess."

This made Hermione stop and look at him, concerned. "What's the matter?"

"Well, Ron and I were talking downstairs, about how much I hate this place because it reminds me of Sirius. And... to make a long story short, he asked if I would be happier if he came to live here."

Hermione brightened considerably. "I think that's an excellent idea. He should stay here with you until we go back to school."

"So, you're going?" Harry asked.

"Until you need us, of course. You said yourself you don't want us throwing away our education, and you know that school's important to me, and I've, um... I've been made Head Girl."

Harry blinked. "You what? When? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I found out this morning, and I didn't want to say anything because school is still a touchy subject for Ron," Hermione explained.

"He doesn't want to go back," Harry said, simply.

"You know he'd follow you anywhere."

With a small smile, Harry remembered Ron's Patronus. "Yeah, I know. And I want you all there with me."

Hermione smiled back. "Besides, my parents would be furious with me if I dropped out of school with just a year left, after being made Head Girl and being at the top of all of my classes."

"So, your parents know, then?"

"I owled them this morning. Head Girl and Prefect and things like that... they understand those. It's when I write that I've passed all my O.W.L.s, or that I discovered an easier way to brew Pepper-Up Potion or something that they kind of... nod their heads and smile, I guess."

Harry fidgeted slightly. "Um... how are your parents?"

Hermione seemed taken aback. "They're fine. Their practice is going very well."

"Are they worried at all? About the war, I mean."

Hermione became very quiet, and started sorting her books again. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, Ron may not be the only person coming to live here," Harry began. "Since Voldemort kind of hinted on my birthday that he might come after you two, or your families, I talked to Remus. And since the house is already protected by the Fidelius Charm, he and I both thought that the Weasleys should come live here, too, so they'll be protected. I tried to do the same for your mum and dad, but-"

"-Muggle Repelling Charms," Hermione finished. "It was a nice thought, though, Harry. And I think the Weasleys being here will be good for you."

"Well... I was thinking instead to maybe do a Fidelius Charm for you parents, since Grimmauld Place won't work," Harry told her.

Hermione paused, but didn't say anything.

"They moved the Dursleys, you know," Harry continued. "They agreed to move and change their names and all that, just in case. Maybe your parents could do something like that. I mean, I know they have their dental practice, but-"

"Um, Harry," Hermione interrupted, "I'm not sure if that's going to work."

Harry looked at her oddly. "What do you mean?"

Hermione didn't look at him. "Well, my parents know you and I are friends, Harry. But, they don't exactly know all about, well, _you_. About you and Voldemort, I mean. I haven't exactly told them about how, um... dangerous, I guess, it is being your friend."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that. After a short pause, the best he could do was: "Oh."

"Please don't take it the wrong way, I didn't mean anything. You're not dangerous, it's just-" She waved her hands about in a frustrated manner. "Oh, I can't explain it to them, Harry! They know about Voldemort, they know what he's done and what he's doing, and they're worried about me, yes. But not as much as they would be if they found out just how close you, Ron, and I really are. And that... and that Voldemort could come after me. Or them."

"So, it's better to just leave them in the dark?" Harry asked.

"Please don't lecture me about this," Hermione said, a little frostily. "They don't understand. And I don't want to worry them needlessly."

Harry snorted. "Needlessly? Hermione, Voldemort could show up at their house tomorrow!"

Hermione winced. "Don't say things like that."

"But, it's the truth! You want them to be safe, don't you?"

Hermione slammed her trunk shut and glared at Harry furiously. "Of course, I do! What kind of question is that?"

"Then you need to tell them! Convince them to go into hiding or something."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?" Harry asked, exasperated.

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it again. She began to pace, answering, "They don't understand."

"That's getting a little old. They don't understand what? They agreed to send you to Hogwarts, didn't they?"

"Yes," Hermione answered.

"Well, then what's the problem? What don't they understand?"

"Everything!" Hermione shouted, suddenly, making Harry jump. "It was fine the first couple of years after I went to Hogwarts. Nothing was really different, and they were really supportive. But, after about fourth year we just... stopped talking. I mean, we stopped talking about _things_. Things that we all enjoyed, because the things I enjoyed were things they could never be apart of. And I was so wrapped up in Voldemort coming back, and helping the Order, and then I was worried about you... We just don't talk," she finished. "And, after a while, I just stopped going home because I felt like I didn't belong. They_ never_ made me feel that way, and we tried to be the same as before we found out I was a witch, but I guess you can never go back. They're still my parents, and I'm still their daughter. I love them. But, I don't want to tell them about this, Harry, because I'm just afraid it'll be another thing that drives us further apart."

Harry got up and took Hermione's hand, forcing her to look at him. "You don't have to tell them alone. I could go with you, or Ron-"

Hermione scoffed. "Ron? Look, I love him as much as you do, but he's not the most sensitive of beings." She sighed. "I can't... I can't do this one alone." She bit her lip. "Maybe if someone went with me, it would be easier. They'd be able to explain it properly; make them see what's going on."

"Do you want me to go?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No offense, Harry, but no. I don't think that would help the situation. If they're at all confused or angry about it, they might lash out at you because you're the one that Voldemort is after. Actually, I think I'd like Remus to go."

"That's a really good idea."

"Yes, I think so, too. He's... calm and polite, and I think that if the idea of this was coming from him, as well as me, it'll make it much easier to swallow."

Harry squeezed her hand. "So... it's settled then? You'll talk to them, with Remus?"

Hermione swallowed and nodded. "I guess I'll have to. You're right; it's too dangerous. It's a small chance that they'll come after them because of me, but... I suppose I'd rather them be safe than be..." She blinked back tears.

Harry enveloped her in a hug, which she returned, gripping him tightly. "Have you talked to Ron at all about this? I can't believe you haven't mentioned this to anyone. We're your friends."

"I talk to Ginny sometimes," Hermione admitted, pulling away. "Plus, to be honest, we've just had so many other things going on. I think this is more important. We're at war."

"Well... your family's important, too."

Hermione glared at him again. "I know that, Harry. I did say I would talk to them."

Harry sighed. "I'm not trying to lecture you, or make it out like you don't care about them or something, it's just... at least you have parents, Hermione. You have something that I never had, and will never understand. I had a bond with Sirius, yeah, but probably nothing like you have, or had, with your mum and dad. And I'm not saying that to make you feel bad, or get pity, or something."

"You know I'd never pity you, Harry. It's not what you want. You never wanted that."

"I never wanted a lot of things," Harry said, quietly.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "Things turned out a lot differently then we thought they would, didn't they?"

"Yeah. For instance, seven years ago, I would never have expected you to be with Ron."

Hermione laughed. "Me either," she giggled.

Harry laughed, too.

"It's good to see you smiling again, Harry," Hermione told him.

He shrugged. "Not a lot to smile about lately. Just... don't bottle up your problems. Ron's your boyfriend now, he's going to be there for you. Even more than when he was just your friend. He really does care about you."

Hermione nodded. "I know. I care for him, too."

There was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Harry offered. "You should get back to your alphabetizing."

"Har har," Hermione said, sarcastically, as he opened the door.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed as she almost walked right into him. "I'm sorry, I heard Hermione shouting and... We're you two fighting?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Harry frowned. "No."

"Well... can I come in?" she asked, for Harry was still standing in the entrance.

"Oh, right. Sorry," Harry said. He moved to the right the same time Ginny did. They both laughed, albeit uncomfortably, and then both moved to the left. Harry felt like he was in some sort of bad romantic comedy. Finally, he just grabbed her around the waist and spun her around, so that he was back in the hall, and she was in Hermione's room.

"Um, thanks," Ginny said, blushing a little. "See you later."

"Thanks for talking to me, Harry," Hermione yelled to him as Ginny shut the door.

Harry sighed and slumped against it, letting the back of his head hit the cold wood. "You're welcome," he muttered to the empty hall way.

------------------

A couple of hours later, Harry, Remus, Moody, Tonks, Shacklebolt, McGonnagal, and Molly and Arthur Weasley were congregated around the giant table in the Blacks' old kitchen.

"So," Moody started once everyone had been seated. "What's this all about, then?"

Harry and Lupin exchanged glances, and Lupin said, "Harry and I have been discussing some things, mainly what Dumbledore imparted to Harry concerning Voldemort."

"We wouldn't, by any chance, be finding out where the two of you were the night Albus was killed?" McGonnagal asked, eyebrows raised.

Harry shook his head and said, firmly, "Sorry, no. Remus and I have been talking a lot since I came back to Grimmauld Place. Professor Dumbledore had been keeping him informed of my, er, private lessons that I'd been having last year. I think you knew about them, too, Professor McGonnagal."

She nodded. "I wasn't aware of the details, mind. Only that it had to do with You-Know-Who."

"Dumbledore used his Pensieve to convey his and other people's memories of Voldemort, from the time he was a child to when he was at school and after, in hopes to prepare Harry for what he would be facing," Remus explained. "I knew about as much as Minerva, but Harry's been elaborating to me some of what those memories entailed. But, I - like the rest of you - don't know the whole story."

"And you won't know the whole story," Harry said. "Look, I'm sorry, but I swore to Dumbledore that I wouldn't spread some of the information that we learned about Voldemort. It's too risky. The less people that know, the better. But, there are some things that I think you all should be told. Voldemort's already come after me once. Some of the people in this room had to face him on my birthday. And there's a huge chance that we'll all be facing him again. The more you know about him, the better."

"Well, that's the thing, isn't it, Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "Not much _is_ known."

"Dumbledore knew. And so did others. That was what the Pensieve and my lessons were for. And that's also what this meeting's for." Harry took a deep breath. "Most of you know by now that Voldemort's real name is Tom Riddle. His father was a Muggle, by the same name, and his mum was a witch named Merope Gaunt. She was a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin. Voldemort, actually, was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets the first time."

The Weasleys' eyes widened. "I never believed it was Hagrid," Mrs. Weasley said, shocked. "But Vol- er, You-Know-Who, never crossed my mind."

"Yeah, well... he framed Hagrid. Dumbledore, of course, knew what happened, and that's why he convinced Headmaster Dippet to let Hagrid stay on as gamekeeper. Tom grew up in a Muggle orphanage, and he closed the Chamber because they were going to shut down the school, and he didn't want to have to go back."

"I was in school when that happened," McGonnagal said, softly. "Riddle was a few years ahead of me. I remember some of the things he and his gang used to do, although Ogg, Filch, and Dippet never could trace it back to them."

"Then maybe you could tell us a bit more about Voldemort at school when we have more time," Remus suggested. McGonnagal nodded.

"When he was in the orphanage, Dumbledore found out that Riddle already had a lot of power, and he used that power to frighten the other kids that lived with him," Harry continued. "He used to collect things from the people he'd tormented. He could already speak Parseltongue, and he was very independent. And angry. Sometimes, in his eyes, you could see what he would become, even when he was that young." Harry trailed off, remembering the bestial look that the young Tom Riddle had in his eyes when Dumbledore told him he was a wizard. At the odd looks that he was getting from the other Order members, he snapped himself out of his reverie. "Anyway," he continued, "he was in the Slug Club - when Professor Slughorn taught at Hogwarts the first time - and that's where he recruited some of the first Death Eaters. In the memory that I saw, Slughorn mentioned Avery and Lestrange, so I'm guessing those were the fathers of the ones that we know of."

"What happened to his mother and father?" Tonks asked.

"His mother died right after he was born," Harry explained. "His father abandoned Merope after he found out she was a witch. That's why he had to stay in the orphanage."

"That's horrible," Tonks muttered. "No wonder he hates Muggles so much."

Harry shook his head. "It goes deeper than that. I'm sure that had something to do with it, but... the Gaunts were all crazy. They were those sort of pure-blood nutters that inbred and married their cousins and stuff."

"I don't doubt that finding out his father was a Muggle, and then finding out that he left them, did anything to quell Voldemort's hatred for non-magical people. And now he's turned into a sort of pure-blood maniac," Remus interjected.

"Or he's using that to gain control," Moody huffed. "Voldemort wants power, he wants to rule. Of course he's going to say he's for the purification of the Wizarding world. That's how he gets his followers."

"But, I really think he is. He killed his father," Harry stated, "when he was sixteen. The irony is, he's a half-blood. He's killing off people that are just like him. That are just like me. Anyone who marries a Muggle or are friends with Muggle-borns are called blood traitors, and he kills them, too. It's like... it's like, if he couldn't be pure, if he has to know that his father was a Muggle, then everything that connects him to being a part of his father has to die. Like, if he destroys anything that's not magic, there won't be anything to remind him of who and what he really is. And that means Muggles, Muggle-borns, half-bloods... until all we have left are people like the Blacks and the Malfoys."

"That's sick," someone muttered, softly. Harry couldn't tell who. After he had revealed that Voldemort had committed patricide while still in school, the room had collectively exchanged glances of shock and disgust, and had remained silent.

"As everyone already knows from the First War, or tales of the First War, we're dealing with a madman," Remus said. "A very powerful and brilliant madman. He's manipulative, calculating, and for all intents and purposes breeding an army. Voldemort is many things, but stupid is not one of them. If we're going to go up against him and win, we have our work cut out for us. Dumbledore is gone. We have to do this alone. Had Dumbledore still been alive, I don't think we'd be having this conversation. There would have been no need."

"Potter's right," Moody interrupted. "Eventually, we will all come face to face with the Dark Lord. And it's better that you understand right now what you're dealing with. He was tormenting, torturing, and murdering without care by the time he was sixteen years old. He did experiments on himself... Dark magic... that's turned him into what he is. In the ten years that he left Hogwarts and then returned to begin his reign of terror, he had transformed himself into being almost unrecognizable. Tom Riddle was gone, if he even existed at all; to me, he's always been Voldemort. I think a lot of people would be shocked to know that Voldemort used to be Riddle. I guarantee you ninety percent of the Wizarding population doesn't know."

"And they probably won't care," Remus said. "It makes no difference now. From what I've heard from Harry, he's always been evil. Mad-Eye's right... he's always been Voldemort. Tom Riddle was just something he allowed himself to be called until the time was right."

"Everyone knows the rest of the story. He gathered followers, mostly from rich, pure-blooded families like the Malfoys, and went on a killing spree," Harry finished. "I think at first he might have just been trying to scare people. To show them he wasn't afraid to murder. And to show that his Death Eaters weren't afraid of getting their hands dirty either."

"His murders became more calculated, though. He found out who had power and the ability to sway people and either blackmailed or Imperiused them. He took out key people who could have prompted others to take action against him, much like he's doing right now. And then once he found out about the Order, well... I'm sure everyone's seen the photograph," Lupin said, sadly.

The photograph in question was of the original Order, most of who had died horrible deaths at the hands of Voldemort or the Death Eaters.

"So... what do we do now?" Tonks asked.

"Study up, I guess," Harry shrugged. "We know that he fears death. That's why he tried to so hard to defeat it."

"He did defeat it," Shacklebolt pointed out. Harry looked pointedly at the floor. _If only you knew_, he thought.

"Dumbledore also said he doesn't like the dark, because it represents the unknown," Harry continued. He thought of the boundaries surrounding the fake Horcrux, and how blood was needed to pass through the gateway. "He also thinks physical injuries imply weakness."

"This isn't kid stuff," Moody barked, suddenly. "We're not taking OWL Defense Against the Dark Arts. I say we learn as many spells as we can, light and dark, to prepare ourselves."

"Fight fire with fire, Alastor?" McGonnagal asked, dubiously. "What separates us from people like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters is that we won't use certain spells against another."

"And it's what's getting us killed. We should at least study them; we can't fight what we're not prepared for. We can't fight what he don't know."

"Alastor has a point," Remus agreed. "I understand that Harry shares this point of view, and was actually a step ahead of us, starting this summer."

"What!" squawked Mrs. Weasley. "You've been studying Dark magic?"

"No! I've been looking up spells, so I'll recognize them, and I've been learning more hexes, and curses, and defensive spellwork," Harry said, hotly. "Hermione brought me a lot of books, and I also got some out of Diagon Alley." _Better not mention the ones Hermione got me from Knockturn_. "Ron and Hermione have been helping me."

"That needs to stop," Mrs. Weasley huffed. "They're too young-"

"They're Harry's friends, and they're of age. We can't stop them. And, if you recall, Sirius, James, Lily, and myself were all fresh out of Hogwarts when we joined the Order," Remus pointed out.

"Yes, but they're not out of Hogwarts yet-"

"Molly," Mr. Weasley said, tiredly, "can we please save this argument for another time?"

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips, but didn't say anything else.

"Anyway," Harry started again, sighing, "I just thought maybe you all would like some insight on Voldemort."

"Better the devil you know then the one you don't," Shacklebolt said, softly.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, something like that." He looked at the clock; it was almost nine. Remus followed his gaze.

"I think we should call it a night. We'll meet here tomorrow to discuss our Secret Keeper problem, and duel out new patrol duties. Kingsley, how are things coming on the recruitment front? Tonks tells me things are pretty bleak."

Shacklebolt nodded. "Scrimgeour's been running a tight ship. He's insisting that everything needs to be done his way. It feels more like martial law everyday. I really don't think we'll be getting anymore help from the Auror front."

Lupin sighed. "Arthur? Any luck in your department."

"I get more interest everyday, but until we find away to figure out this Fidelius charm, it won't really matter, will it? How are we supposed to get information to the new recruits without being overheard?" Mr. Weasley asked, stifling a yawn.

"Well, that's something we'll have to address tomorrow." Remus yawned himself. "Go on, everyone, go home and get some sleep. We'll meet back here tomorrow evening."

"No sleep for me," Tonks said, grumpily. "I'm on duty tonight, and I have to be in at nine tomorrow morning."

"Such is life, my dear," Remus said, smiling and kissing her on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Everyone said their goodbyes to Harry and Remus, and then made their way out the door. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley headed upstairs, while the rest left in twos out the front, probably to Apparate.

"You did well, Harry," Remus said, stretching. "I'm sure that couldn't have been easy for you."

Harry nodded. He suddenly felt very guilty. He didn't like hiding the knowledge that Voldemort had made horcruxes from the rest of the Order. _They don't know. They don't know, and what they don't know about Voldemort could kill them. They need to know what he's done; what he's capably of. He ripped his soul into pieces, for God's sake!_

_You promised Dumbledore,_ his mind argued. He really wished it would shut up.

_Well, Dumbledore may have been wrong. I'm not going to be responsible if something happens to one of them because they didn't know any better._

_Don't be an idiot._

"Oh, will you shut up," Harry muttered, running his hands through his hair.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Are you feeling okay, Harry?"

Harry rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired. I wasn't talking to you, I'm sorry."

"Did you speak to Hermione?" Lupin asked. He was still looking at Harry with concern.

"Yeah. She's agreed to talk to her parents... hasn't she come to talk to you about it yet?"

Remus shook his head. "No, she hasn't. I'll let her take her time with it, then."

Harry blew air between his lips in a sort of impatient way. "She hasn't got time to be like this."

Remus said nothing, and started clearing the table, which the others had left scattered with empty cups of tea. Harry sighed and began helping him.

"You think I'm being mean or something, don't you?" he asked Remus, finally.

Remus paused, Moody's cup in his hand. "I think that you're being too hard on her. She's split between two worlds and two loyalties, Harry, this can't be easy for her. And you're supposed to be her friend. You should be encouraging and sympathetic, not impatient and angry."

"I'm not angry!" Harry exclaimed, hurt. He grabbed the remaining cups and stormed into the back, resisting the urge to throw them into the sink.

"You're angry now," Remus said, following him, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Yeah, because you're being a berk," Harry said back, throwing a dish rag at him.

Remus laughed. "You sound like James."

Harry jokingly rolled his eyes. "Seriously, though... maybe you should go and talk to her."

Remus gave him a look. "You've already spoken to her and she said she would talk to me. Just leave it at that. I had best friends, too, you know. And there are some things that they need you for, and there are other things that you just need to back off of and let them alone, no matter how much it hurts you to see them suffer."

Harry could think of nothing to say to this, so he instead starting soaping up some water.

"Why don't you get on to bed, Harry," Remus suggested. "I can handle the dishes."

Harry shrugged. "Because I don't have anything to do tomorrow, besides what I do every other day. Get up, eat, shower, read, eat, practice, read, eat, read, go to bed.. It's not like I need to rest up for anything. Besides... if you're not going to be lazy and use a Scourging charm, I might as well help you. It's my house, and I'm not about to have one of my friends clean it up for me." He gave Remus a wicked grin. "But I'll only help if you promise not to try and talk me out of dropping out of school again."

The werewolf sighed. "I am only concerned for your future."

"So am I. That's why I'm not going. And I have enough people worrying about me without you getting in the mix."

"You're James and Lily's son, and a friend to me. I can't not worry about you."

Harry started scrubbing the dishes and handing them off to Lupin, who began drying them with the rag that Harry had thrown at him.

"Speaking of my parents," Harry began, "I've decided to go to Godric's Hollow."

Remus paused but waited for Harry to finish.

"In fact, since I'm not doing anything but the usual, and Ron and Hermione are here for the weekend, I think I'll do it tomorrow."

Remus almost dropped the tea cup. "You most certainly will not. Not after what happened on Privet Drive."

"Weren't you just saying a few minutes ago about how the three of us are of age and you can't stop us from doing anything anymore," Harry pointed out. "I thought if anyone could understand me going there, it would be you. I never knew my mum and dad. I want to see where they lived, and see where they're burried. Visit them." He turned back to the dishes. "It's not up for discussion, Remus. I'm going. Ron and Hermione are probably going to want to come, too, which is fine. I want them there."

"Why did you bother telling me at all if you won't allow me to talk some sense into you?" Remus snapped. Harry blinked in surprise. It wasn't often that Remus Lupin lost his cool.

"Because I wasn't just going to go trekking off and not tell anyone. Besides, I need you to give me directions."

"Harry, it is too dangerous-"

"Remus, walking out my front door and taking a turn around the corner is dangerous!" Harry said, exasperated. "I know Voldemort's after me, okay? I get that. He's kind of been after me for the past seven years. Well, seventeen, really, if you want to get technical. I will not hide in here forever. I have to get out. I have to destroy him. And to do that, I kind of need to leave Grimmauld Place once and I while and risk coming face to face with him. You can't keep me safe anymore."

Remus clenched his jaw and began drying the dishes again, albeit with more force than was probably necessary. "You shouldn't put Ron and Hermione in danger as well."

"You're absolutely right. Pity they won't listen to me."

"Well, now perhaps you understand where I'm coming from."

Harry could not deny that he had a point.

"If you insist upon going to Godric's Hollow, at least try not to be so rash about it," Remus said after a while. "Don't go tomorrow. Take a day to plan or something. Ron and Hermione don't return to school for another couple of weeks. Why not do it next weekend?"

"Because, I've waited long enough. It's time I started-" Harry stopped, taking a breath to steady the flip flops that had suddenly started happening in his stomach. "It's time I did what I needed to do. I'm far from ready. But I can't put it off any longer. I want to see my old home, and visit my parents graves before I start. It's just something I have to do. And I'm sure I could find the place on my own, but that would take more time, and I'd much rather you help me." He turned to face Remus, who was regarding him sadly. "I'll take my father's cloak if it will make you feel better. We won't come out from under it until we reach the house." _If there's even a house left_, Harry thought.

Remus said nothing for a long time. He finished drying the dishes and put them in the cupboards. Harry sighed, and began to make his way out of the kitchen.

"Night, then," he said before starting up the stairs.

"Take the Knight Bus, don't Apparate," Remus said, suddenly. "And I think it best we not tell Molly what the three of you are up to."

Harry turned around to see Remus looking at him with that same sad expression, but also with pride.

"Yeah, I think you're right," Harry agreed, smiling genuinely. "Thank you."

Remus nodded and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "Just come back in one piece, Harry. That's all I ask."

----------------

The next day came, and with it Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's Hogwarts letters.

"Have they got a new Defense the Dark Arts teacher?" Harry asked, looking over Ron's shoulder at his book list. They were sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast.

"Seems like it. They'll have to have gotten a new Transfiguration teacher as well, and a new Gryffindor Head of House," Ron answered.

"I heard McGonnagal talking last night," Hermione told them. "The positions have been filled, but she's not entirely happy with either of them. There were hardly any applicants at all, and enrollment is down horribly."

"Maybe I'll have the dorm to myself this year," Ron said, nibbling a piece of bacon. "If I decide to go, that is."

"Your mother has already told you you're going back go Hogwarts or she'll have your head," Hermione said to him, sharply.

"I don't care what she thinks!" Ron said back, hotly, his ears going read.

Before an argument could progress, Harry told them, calmly: "I'm going to Godric's Hollow."

The both of them turned and looked at him sharply. "What?" Hermione asked. "When did you decide this?"

"Last night. I spoke to Remus, and he wasn't too keen on the idea, but he agreed to give me directions so long as I use the Invisibility Cloak and come back in one piece."

"Don't you mean 'we'?" Ron asked.

Harry grinned. "Well, yeah, but I didn't want to speak for the two of you."

"Don't be stupid! Of course we're coming."

"We won't let you go alone, Harry," Hermione added. "It's much too dangerous. Something terrible could happen."

"My mum is going to go ballistic," Ron muttered.

"Remus suggested that we, er, not tell her."

Ron brightened at this idea, but Hermione looked aghast. "We can't do that!"

"Sure we can," Ron said, waving his hand dismissively.

"I will not lie to your mother, Ron."

"It's not lying. It's not telling her what we're doing. So, when are we off?"

Hermione was still glaring reproachfully, but she didn't say anything else.

"Either this evening or tomorrow," Harry told them.

"Bloody hell! That was quick!" Ron said, folding up his letter. "We'd better get a move on. What should we do to prepare?"

"Probably just go over all our spellwork, because I have a feeling we're going to run into some trouble. Now that I'm of age, I'm sure I won't be able to leave this place without being followed or attacked," Harry sighed.

"Have you told Ginny?" Hermione asked.

Harry blinked. "No. Mainly because she's not speaking to me."

"Ginny doesn't need to know either. You saw her after we got back from Hogwarts the last time," Ron pointed out.

"Ginny doesn't need to know what?"

The three of them whipped their heads around to see the youngest Weasley coming down the stairs still in her bathrobe. She saw Hermione reading her letter and asked, "They came? Is mine down here somewhere, too?"

Harry located it on the table and handed it to her.

"Thanks. What don't I need to know?" she asked again.

"That Ron's still not sure whether he's going back to school," Harry said, quickly.

Ginny poured herself some orange juice and sat down. "Oh, he's going. Mum said she'll disown him if he doesn't."

"She's just talking, Ginny," Ron argued. "She wouldn't do that, not after what happened with Percy."

Ginny just shrugged and began opening her letter. As she pulled out the parchment, something gold fell out and onto the table with a clinking sound. Everyone stared at it.

"You're a prefect?" Ron said, disbelief etched in his voice.

"No, they hand those out in fifth year," Harry reminded him. He picked it up, just as Ginny started reading her letter.

"I've been made Quidditch Captain," she said, breathlessly. Harry looked down at the pin in his hand for confirmation. Sure enough, it looked just like the one he had received the year before.

"What? You mean if I get Keeper again, you're going to be in charge of me?" Ron sputtered. "That's bollocks!"

"That's wonderful!" Harry exclaimed. "Ginny, congratulations, I knew you'd get it."

Ginny gave him a half-smile. "Thanks... we'd much rather have you back on the team, but... I'm Captain." Her smile grew wider and she jumped up from the table. "I have to go tell Mum and Dad!" And she ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"I have to take orders from my sister," Ron groaned. He grabbed the remaining bacon, eggs, and sausage and piled them on his plate.

"Ron, what on earth are you doing?" Hermione asked.

Ron sighed in a dramatic way. "I eat when I'm depressed."

The three of them burst out laughing.

"Seriously, though," Harry said, grabbing some eggs for himself off of Ron's plate. "You all really want to go?"

"Didn't we tell you we'd be there at Dumbledore's Funeral?" Ron reminded him. "Of course we're coming. Right, 'Mione?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

For some reason, Harry felt his eyes start to sting. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was getting so emotional. "I don't know what I would do without the two of you," he said, softly.

Hermione blushed, but Ron shrugged, grinning at him. "Well, you'd probably have more food," he said, and shoveled a heap of eggs into his mouth.

_I'm sorry this has taken to so long to get out. RL has been very hectic, but as most of it is personal, I won't go into details. However, I think most of it has sorted itself out, and we're getting to the good bits of the fic now, so updates should be more frequent._

_I also wanted to dedicated this chapter to my baby sister, who has been my beta and who bugged and bugged me to write this, because apparently she's as much into it as my readers. _


	8. Godric's Hollow part two

The three decided to leave that Sunday since only Remus would be in the house. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had gone to Diagon Alley to pick up Ginny's school books and also a new broom to celebrate her being made Captain, and Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Moody, and Shacklebolt were all on duty in various places throughout London and the surrounding areas. McGonagall, of course, was at the school preparing the two new teachers, one of whom would be the new Gryffindor Head of House.

"It'll be strange going back," Hermione said as they made preparations to leave. "A new Head of House, no Dumbledore-"

"Half the students gone," Harry muttered, angrily. "It still gets me how people can be so stupid. Hogwarts is the safest place to be, even with Dumbledore dead." He knew he sounded like a hypocrite - _he_, after all, wasn't returning.

"They're just being parents," Hermione sighed. "Doing what they think is best."

"Mmm," mumbled Ron. The subject of Hogwarts was apparently still weighing on him.

"Hey," Harry told him, "I won't blame you if you go back. This life I'm going to lead... it's not going to be easy."

Ron pulled a face and muttered something incoherent.

"Besides," Harry added in a lighter tone, "with Ginny as Captain, and Hermione as Head Girl, you're bound to have loads of fun."

"Oh, yeah, should be a barrel of laughs," Ron said, sarcastically. "And Ernie McMillan as Head Boy, as well."

"Ernie's not bad," Hermione said. "Harry, your cloak." She carefully took it out of his trunk and handed it to him. "He was one of the only people to stand up for Harry in fifth year, and one of the first to join the DA."

"True," Ron admitted. "Has Remus got you a map?"

"Hermione's got the directions, yeah. And she's going to try a glamour spell on me to cover up my scar," Harry explained.

"Do you think we should do your eyes as well?" Hermione asked as they made their way out of Harry and Ron's room.

"Love, he's Harry Potter," Ron said, putting his hand in hers. "Everyone knows what he looks like. To be honest, I don't think covering up his scar and changing his eye color is going to do much."

"I'm just trying to do what I can to help," Hermione said. Harry could tell she was trying to hold her temper and be civil. "He's not a Metamorphmagus, you know."

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry told her, trying to keep the peace. "Let's just carry on with my scar for right now. Even if it doesn't really do anything as a disguise, I'd like to see what I'd look like without that thing on my head."

They made their way down the stairs to find Remus waiting for them, a very dour look on his face.

"You're really going, then?" he asked.

Harry could tell this was more of a statement than a question. "Yes," he said, sternly.

"And there's no way I can talk you out of it?"

"No."

"And you won't let me go with you?"

"We've been through this," Harry sighed, annoyed. "You're needed here. We've got the cloak, we're taking the Knight Bus, Hermione's going to do a spell to hide my scar... and we've learned loads in the last couple months in the way of defensive spellwork. We might not be fine, but at least we'll have a chance to get away if we _are_ attacked."

Remus visibly winced. "Please, don't say that."

"Sorry."

Remus turned to Hermione and Ron. "I'm counting on you two to protect him." At their nods of acknowledgment, he turned to Harry. "And I'm counting on you to make it home."

Harry managed a small smile. "Don't worry. I'll be back in a flash, you'll see."

Remus hugged Harry tightly, and then quickly ushered the three of them out the door. "Apparate imeadiately if something goes wrong," he pleaded as Harry swept the cloak over himself so that Hermione and Ron looked to be the only ones outside. "Swear to me, Harry."

"I promise," he whispered.

Ron and Hermione waved good by, and the two of them - and the concealed Harry - made their way down the stairs and into the street. Remus watched until they had reached the corner and made the turn before sighing sadly and shutting the door.

It turned out to be a very windy day for August, and Harry had to struggle to keep the cloak from coming up and showing his trainers. He, Ron, and Hermione made their way down two or three blocks to where they had caught the Knight Bus two years ago. Hermione lit her wand and raised her hand. After a few moments, the three story, purple bus appeared with a pop. It seemed that Stan Shunpike had been replaced by an older, wheezing wizard, who took Ron and Hermione's money and gave them their tickets without a word. Hermione went first, then Harry, and then Ron so not to be conspicuous. The bus was virtually empty, and Harry assumed it was probably due to the fact that no one was traveling anymore; with Dumbledore gone and Voldemort on the rise, everyone was just too afraid. Once they had taken some seats toward the back, and bus had taken off with a lurch, the conductor asked: "Where to, kids?"

Hermione glanced at the map that Remus had written up. The Potters' old house, and Godric's Hollow, were in Folly Gate, a town in Devon just north of Dartmoor National Park. Remus had suggested that they get dropped off about a mile away from Godric's Hollow, so not to arouse suspicion. "Devon, please. Um... Folly Gate."

The conductor raised his eyebrow. "Anywhere specific in Folly Gate?"

Hermione blushed. Ron did a quick glance at the map himself, and answered: "The corner of Burgon and Manheim. We'll just walk it from there."

The conductor shrugged and headed back up to the front of the bus. Harry released the breath he had been holding. "Anyone know anything about Folly Gate?" he asked, quietly.

"Not much," Ron admitted. He and Hermione faced each other as though they were talking amongst themselves and not to an invisible person. "Moor land, mostly. Good place for practicing and playing Quidditch. Probably why your dad moved there."

"Ron, they were on the run from Voldemort," Hermione said. "I doubt Quidditch was the first thing on James and Lily's minds."

"Harry asked what there was!" Ron hissed, and Harry tapped him on the leg to remind him to keep his voice down.

"I think there's an old World War Two field nearby, as well," Hermione added, thinking of Muggle history. "And Dartmoor National Park. Other than that, it's just an average Muggle town."

The bus lurched violently, and Ron was almost thrown out of his seat. "I definitely did not miss riding on this thing," he muttered.

The ride took about half an hour, and they picked up only two other people on the way. Once they had arrived in Folly Gate, on the corner of Burgon and Manheim, the bus stopped so suddenly that Ron, Harry, and Hermione plowed into the seat in front of them, Harry almost losing the invisibility cloak in the process. They carefully got off the bus, which promptly headed off back down the street and disappeared.

"Can we please Apparate back home?" Ron asked, rubbing his neck as Hermione took the map out again. "I swear that stupid thing gave me whip-lash."

"Do you think it's safe for me to take the cloak off yet?" Harry asked. The three of them looked around.

"It's the middle of the day, Harry," Hermione reminded him, and started down Burgon street. Ron and Harry followed. "Someone's bound to see you pop out of nowhere."

"Who?" Ron asked, indicating their surroundings. He had a point. The spot that the bus had dropped them off was a very desolated area indeed.

"Maybe they haven't developed this place, yet," she said. "It is kind of out in the middle of nowhere."

Harry wasn't sure that made much sense. "Remus said that Godric's Hollow was a Muggle village. Why have a big development down the street, but nothing here?"

Hermione shrugged. "Don't ask me why builders do the things they do. If you want to take the cloak off, go ahead, then. But I think you should wait till we get to the house."

They followed Burgon Street until it met Sommerset Road, and then followed that until they reached what Remus said would be the entrance to Godric's Hollow. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped as they came to it.

"Is this it?" Ron asked.

Hermione checked the map. "Remus said the entrance to Godric's Hollow would be Gryffin's Glen Road." She looked up at the road sign. "This is it."

"But... there's nothing here," Ron protested. "This can't be it."

"Look!" Harry said, suddenly. He threw off the invisibility cloak and headed toward some overgrown bushes. "There's a sign." He took out his wand and muttered an incantation. Some of the vines and weeds disappeared to reveal a stone wall sign that read, in fading letters, "Godric's Hollow".

"Why would it be covered up? Why does it look like that?" Hermione asked.

Harry took a look around at the village's entrance, and thought about the abandoned area around it. "I don't think anyone lives here anymore."

"Then why not tear it down?" Hermione asked again. "Why just leave it like this?"

"Dunno... maybe people forgot about it," Harry suggested. "Or maybe no one wanted to come back here. Someone's house blows up on Halloween, and two people and a... thing... are found inside? Can't blame people for being scared."

"Or maybe the Ministry wouldn't let them tear it down, since it's where you defeated Voldemort," Ron added. The three of them stood in front of the entrance, the wind blowing about them, kicking up dirt and leaves. Hermione's hair whipped around her face like it had a mind of it's own. Harry couldn't help feeling a sense of sadness and foreboding coming from the place. It was like Godric's Hollow itself knew it's own history, and what had happened here. Except for the wind and rustling leaves, no other sound came from the - what looked to be - abandoned village. It was one of the loudest, and eeriest, silences that Harry had ever heard. The rational part of his brain told him that this was a mistake, and that he and his two friends were putting themselves in needless danger once again. But the other part was drawn to his old home, as if it was pulling him, beckoning him, to come and see it's remains and learn it's story; Harry's story. The story of where the life he was now forced to lead began. He turned to regard Ron and Hermione, who were still looking at the entrance with trepidation and unease.

"Well, come on. We came here for a reason. I want to see my house," Harry said, and started forward down Gryffin's Glen Road. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, but followed.

"Wait!" Hermione said, taking out her wand. "The glamour charm."

"Right," said Harry, and turned to face her, pushing his hair off his forehead so his scar was visible. "Go ahead."

Hermione pointed her wand at the lightning shaped cut and whispered a few spell words. Harry felt a sort of pinching sensation there, and then nothing.

"Blimey," muttered Ron.

"Did it work?" Harry asked, feeling the area where his scar was found. He felt the tell-tale raised flesh that signified that it was still there. "I can still feel it."

"But we can't see it," Hermione said, grinning. "It's odd how one thing can make someone look so different."

"Yeah. You don't even look like you anymore, mate," Ron added, squinting at Harry's head.

"That's because everyone knows me by that scar," Harry muttered, pulling his coat around him tighter. "Let's go."

The three of them tried to take in everything they saw. Most of the houses were still standing but in varied states of disrepair. Some had their doors and window boarded up, with signs that read "Foreclosed" on them.

"It's like everyone just packed up and left," Hermione said. "It's... odd."

"It's scary," Ron said. "I don't like this place. It's like something out of a bad ghost story."

"Ron," Hermione sighed. "You live in a castle that has ghosts flying around it all the time. And the Burrow has a ghoul in the attack."

"Yeah, but this is different. It's... empty. It's dead and empty for no reason."

"Oh, I think we know the reason," Harry said. "Like I said before, would you want to stay here if your neighbors blew up?"

"The Ministry had to have told the Muggles that lived here _something_," Hermione pointed out. "Or done a mass _Obliviate_ of the area. Otherwise it would have been all over the local news. Maybe even the country's news, and your aunt and uncle would have learned about what happened before Dumbledore left you there."

"A lot of things about the night my parents died doesn't make sense," Harry sighed. "That's part of the reason why we're here."

"What do you think the house is going to tell you that Dumbledore didn't tell you already?" asked Ron. "It's not like you remember living there at all. You were only a baby."

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "But I feel... I feel like I need to go. I can almost sense something. It's weird. Almost like I can feel the magic... my parent's magic. And Voldemort's." He turned to Hermione. "You can't pretend like you don't feel anything either. You, too, Ron. That's probably what's bothering you."

Hermione gave him a dubius look. "Yes. I can feel power here... I've read that can happen when a very powerful spell or curse has been used, which, for this situation, would make sense. But, Harry, I don't think-"

Harry stopped at the corner and looked at the street sign. Gryffin's Glen Road continued on ahead, and Lion's Den Drive was to the right. "It's this way, isn't it?" he asked, pointing right.

Hermione looked at the map. "Yes," she said, blinking in surprise.

Harry gave her a look. "See? I know I was too young to remember, but it's almost like I do. I feel like I've been here before." He started up again, and Ron and Hermione followed behind.

"Actually, I think _Harry's_ starting to bother me more than anything," Ron muttered. Hermione didn't answer, but it was clear she was starting to feel the same way.

They continued now down Lion's Den Drive, and the houses surrounding them grew older looking and more dilapidated, most overgrown with weeds and other vegetation. "I think we're getting close," Harry said, rubbing his scar. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "What's the number?"

Hermione looked at the map once again. "Seventy-seven."

Harry looked at her strangely. "Seventy-seven?" he repeated. _Odd_.

"Yes, why?" Hermione asked.

_Because Voldemort has seven horcruxes since it's supposed to be the most magical number_, Harry thought, aggravated. He played it off as coincidence, however, and simply shrugged. "Nothing. We're at fifty-four. Let's keep going."

A very large gust of wind almost blew the map straight out of Hermione's hands. She quickly folded it up and put it inside her jacket pocket. "Wait a minute, Harry. This is all very... weird. You're feeling things-"

"So are you," Harry said, hotly.

"I'm _sensing_ magic, yes," Hermione said. "But what you're describing is almost like... memories. You don't even know how long you lived here. You and your parents weren't here very long before Peter betrayed them. If I remember correctly, it was less than a week. And you're walking through here as though you lived here all your life. It's... strange."

"Really? Because I thought it was quite normal," Harry said, sarcastically. "Have you maybe considered that this is all pretty strange for me, too, Hermione? You two wanted to come along. It's not easy for me, coming back here. My parents were murdered on this street. They're burried somewhere not too far. This is the closest that I've ever come to finding out anything about my past that's... real and tangible. The house is something I can see and feel. This _place_ is something I can see and feel. It's important. Dumbledore's gone, Sirius is gone, my parents are gone... anyone that could have given me a clue about my past is gone. So far, Remus has only talked about my dad, and I think I got all the information out of Aunt Petunia that's humanly possible. So this is it."

Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe you should at least put the cloak back on."

Harry glared at her. "No. I'll be wearing that thing my whole life if this keeps up. I shouldn't be afraid to go outside!"

"Yes, you should!" Hermione yelled. "He's after _you_, Harry-"

"You know, I wish someone would remember that I bloody well know that!"

Hermione and Harry glared at each other, while Ron looked back and forth at the both of them, as if confused about what to do.

"Er... let's just go to the house," he suggested. "We've come this far, right?" He winced as they turned around and glared at him instead. "Just trying to help," he muttered.

Hermione made an impatient noise. "Am I the only one here who's concerned about our lives?"

Harry and Ron stared at her, speechless, until Harry walked over to her, not stopping until he was a hand's length away.

"That was a really horrible thing to say to us. To _me_," Harry told her. "Of course we care. Of course _I_ care. If you remember, _I _was the one at Dumbledore's funeral that told you lot to bugger off because it was going to be dangerous! Don't even think for a second that I want anyone else killed because of me."

"I wasn't saying that it was going to be because of you," Hermione argued.

"Not in so many words, no," Harry admitted. "But that was pretty much the gist of it. And I'm not stopping either of you two from leaving."

"I'm not saying I want to go," Ron protested. "We said we were in this together. If we're not, then we _are_ going to die."

Hermione took a deep breath, tears forming in her eyes. "You know I'm always with you, Harry. But-"

"Then trust me," Harry interrupted. "It's not just strange for you, it's strange for all of us. I feel that... darkness of this place... that you do." Noticing the look on her face, Harry continued, "That's it, isn't it? That... feeling. Is it Dark magic?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not sure, but it's making me uneasy. And that's why I'm not exactly sure we should go on."

"Hermione, it's probably just left over from what happened here," Ron said.

"That was sixteen years ago!" Hermione exclaimed. "Surely it still wouldn't be that potent?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm not that familiar with the _Avada Kedavra_ and it's lasting effects on the atmosphere or whatever," Harry sighed. Hermione almost laughed. "But, whatever is in the air, so to speak, feels _bad._"

"At least we don't have odd memory feelings, too," Ron added.

Harry nodded. "Yeah... Are we all in agreement to keep moving now?"

Hermione still looked tense, but the Gryffindor in her made her nod and say, "All right. But, just for the record, I did warn you."

Harry chose to ignore that last part, and the three friends continued down the road in silence. With each step closer to number seventy-seven, the sensation that Harry - and Ron and Hermione - were feeling increased. Harry picked up his pace. He was almost there... almost there...

They got to number seventy and Harry stopped so suddenly that Ron almost ran into him. "What's up?" he asked, but then looked in the direction that Harry was staring. They didn't need to go the rest of the way to see the Potters' old house. It was pretty obvious which one it was, seeing how it was the only one with half of it blown off.

"Mother of Merlin," Ron whispered, stunned. "How the hell did you make it out of there?"

Harry said nothing, but he was asking himself the same exact question. The front and the left side - facing the street - of the house was intact. But, it looked like the right side and most of the back and been completely blown away. Harry remembered his aunt's words from six years prior:

_And then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!_

_Well,_ Harry thought, ruefully, _she sure has hell wasn't kidding._

"How did that happen?" Hermione asked. The three friends tentatively started forward again.

"Must have been from when Voldemort's spell rebounded," Harry said. "The force of it must have caused some kind of... wave of energy or magic or something and it just kind of... exploded."

"But, the bodies," Hermione continued. "The bodies were still, you know, intact, right?"

Harry suppressed a shudder. He didn't like thinking about his parents' bodies, for one. But thinking that whatever had caused the house to explode had also torn them apart as well was too much for him to think about. "Well... I was. And my mum was in my room with me when it happened. So, I'm assuming they were."

"How did you know that?" Ron asked.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but realized he wasn't quite sure. "Er... Hagrid told me, I think. Or Dumbledore. I really can't remember."

They reached the front of the house. It looked like it had had a front garden, and been made of brick. The numbers "Seventy-seven" were in gold, and one of the numbers was hanging lopsided on the door, which was a dark red. Another gust of wind surged up and around them making the house creak, and Harry swore he heard people talking. He shook his head and looked around sharply. Hermione and Ron did the same, but for a different reason.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking scared. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Harry said, turning back to the house. "Nothing, I just... thought I heard people talking."

Ron and Hermione exchanged wide-eyed glances upon hearing this. "Yeah," Ron said, slowly. "So, we saw the house, right? So... now we can go?"

But Harry seemed not to hear them. Ever so cautiously, he started up the front walk and toward the door.

"Harry," Hermione said, her voice rising in pitch a bit. "What are you doing?"

"Why is it like this?" he asked, softly. "Why did they keep it like this?"

"Oh, Merlin, what if it's haunted?" Ron said, suddenly, making Hermione give a disgusted snort.

"Please, Ronald."

"Well, Harry says he's hearing voices and it's obvious no one's come to this place for years!"

"Not haunted," Harry told them. He was on the front step. "But, there's something... I can feel it." He reached for the door handle-

"Harry, stop!" Hermione yelled, shrilly, making Ron and Harry jump. Harry blinked rapidly and stared at her. "That house has a fourth of it blown off. Just the wind is making it creak. I don't think it's stable. I think you should come back here."

Harry said nothing and stayed rooted to the spot before eventually coming back down to where Ron and Hermione stood by the start of the walk way. Hermione breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Harry. I'm glad you-" She stopped talking as Harry shoved the cloak roughly into her hand.

"Put that on. And don't come in after me," he ordered, and walked toward the house again.

Ron and Hermione both looked extremely shocked. "Wh-what?" Hermione sputtered. "What do you mean, don't come in after you? What are you doing? _Harry!_"

But Harry was on the front step again. Then the second, and then the third. He reached the door, put his hand on the knob, and then turned back to his friends. "Put on the cloak. This is something I have to do alone."

"Harry, you're scaring us," Ron told him. Harry knew that was not something that his friend had admitted lightly. "What is going on?"

After a brief silence, Harry said, softly, "I don't know." Then he turned the knob, stepped inside, and was gone. Hermione and Ron pulled on the cloak as Harry had asked and stood in the eerie silence in front of Harry's former home.

"This is mad," Ron whispered, frantically. "This is beyond mad."

Hermione shivered and moved closer to him, grabbing his arm and squeezing it tightly. "I hope he's all right."

"This is mad," Ron said, again. "He shouldn't be in there alone. We should stick together." The wind around them suddenly blew much harder, and storm clouds were forming ominously above their heads. "I have a bad feeling about this."

------

_A/N: Yes! An update! OMG! So, again, major apologies about the lateness of this update. I have moved recently and my computer is not hooked up to the internet, so I had no way of getting this online. However, I was up until midnight last night writing almost all of the rest of this chapter, so, part three should be up very quickly. Also, if anyone wants to know about how the story is coming along, I now have a blogger specifically for that: www.fanficvoid._


	9. Godric's Hollow part three

The last thing Harry saw of his friends before he shut the door was their worried, pale and anxious faces as they did as he requested and hid under the cloak. Then, he was alone. After he shut the door, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning and facing the place where his parents had died. After a few moments of steeling himself, he opened one eye cautiously, as if afraid of what he would see. After assuring himself that there was nothing really amiss, he opened his other eye, and took in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that everything looked relatively untouched. It was dusty - very dusty - and there were cobwebs, leaves, twigs and other things strewn about due to the fact that some of the house was open to the outdoors. There were a few bricks laying around as well, which Harry figured were probably from the explosion. But most of the furniture - while old and decaying - seemed, well, in place. Harry wasn't sure how he knew this, but everything just felt... right. He took a few more cautious steps forward, and then jumped as the house made a very audible creaking sound. _Well, Hermione was right about one thing,_ Harry thought._ The house is definitely not stable._ He gingerly tapped his foot on the floor in front of him to make sure he wouldn't step through the boards. When nothing happened, he applied more pressure. Still nothing happened, so he assumed that, for the moment, all was well.

As Harry continued forward, remembering to test the floor as he did so, he peered into the room on his right, which looked to be an office of some sort. There was a desk, or what may have been a desk, with various instruments on and around it. Some of them reminded Harry of the ones that Dumbledore had had in his office. _Dad's study_, he thought, suddenly, and had the briefest flashes of his father sitting behind that desk, which suddenly looked brand new. He was looking over a parchment in his hand with an annoyed expression on his face, and was ruffling his hair absent-mindedly. Harry blinked, and the image was gone. The wind outside began to blow harder, and Harry shivered, but whether it was from the wind, or what he had just experienced, he didn't know. _Probably imagining things_, he told himself. Still, he couldn't help but stare into his father's study longingly. How many times had James sat at that desk? How many times had Harry sat in there with him while his father worked on what Harry could only assume had been Order business?

"Harry, be careful!"

Harry jumped, and it was all he could do not to yell out in surprised. He turned, wand raised, and looked around for the source of the voice. "Hermione?" he asked, his throat dry. No one answered. He was now facing what had to have been the parlor. There was a giant fire place in the middle that had probably been used to Floo by. The house creaked again, making Harry jump for a third time. He cursed silently, and moved toward the parlor, his wand still raised. "Hello?"

He peered around the corner and into the room, which was very large. There was a couch, three armchairs, and the fireplace. The floor was carpeted, or used to be carpeted. Most of it had been eaten away. _Where did that voice come from?_

As if in answer, Harry turned back around to the fireplace, which started to change. There were logs in it, and it was burning fiercely. The chair next to it had righted itself, and the carpet looked white and fluffy. There was a baby sitting by the fire with a blanket in it's hand, that was laying precariously next to the flames. Suddenly, a red haired woman appeared next to the baby and picked him up, admonishing: "Harry James Potter! You know better!"

To say Harry - the real Harry - was scared out of his wits would be an understatement. He felt light headed, and it was all he could do not to fall over.

_What's happening to me?_

Everything was hazy. His mother and the baby Harry had disappeared, and the room had gone back to the way it was. Harry spun around, eyes darting all over the room. He was starting to hyperventilate, and he was sweating.

"What's going on?" he asked out loud. His voice was strained. "What's happening?" He stumbled out of the parlor and back into the hall that lead into the kitchen. He took a few more steps forward before stumbling and landing on his knees. His breathing was shallow and there was a pain in his chest. "Ron... Hermione..." He was hearing more voices, happy voices, some he recognized and others he didn't. Images were flashing in his mind randomly, almost like being around Dementors, and Harry covered his ears and closed his eyes against them. Too many voices and too many pictures; they were flashing inside his head as if his mind was a miniature projector and his eyelids the screen. Only these images, Harry suddenly realized, weren't bad images. They weren't his worst memories that he had been forced to relive whenever the Azkaban guards were present. These were happy images... happy memories.

He was remembering.

As soon as that thought formed in Harry's mind, his breathing slowed. The sweating and the dizziness stopped. He found he could see clearly again. He stood up, bracing himself against the wall for support. _Hermione was right_, he thought. _There is magic in this place. I _am _remembering my life here._ The kitchen was in front of him. To his left was his playroom. To the right, what would have been the dining room, which Harry knew had held a very large and ornate table with high-backed chairs. There had been a sliding glass door, which lead out into a patio. Lily had locked James and Sirius out there one night after they had drank too much and were being too loud, because Harry had been trying to sleep. His parents had toasted Peter in this room. He felt a pang as he remembered his father's words.

"_To Peter! We owe him our lives. He's saved us. He's saved my son."_

Harry had to grip the door frame to keep from staggering again. If they had only known...

Unable to look at it any longer, Harry turned back around and entered his playroom, which had held dozens of toys. His highchair had been in there. He'd had every stuffed animal that he could have ever wanted. Lily used to sing Pat-a-Cake to him when he was being fussy.

_Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man,_

_bake me a cake as fast as you can._

_Pat it and prick it and mark it with a "P"_

_and put it in the oven for the Potter family!_

Harry started to laugh. That song was ridiculous, and his mother definitely hadn't been a poet. He continued down the hall to the kitchen and passed the stairs to the second floor. He stopped just before entering it. The cabinets, which had been a dark cherry wood, were rotted and falling apart. The stove was rusted. Seeing the stove suddenly made him very sad. Lily had loved to cook. He suddenly remembered sitting on someone's lap at the kitchen table. That someone had been bouncing him.

"_Go on, Padfoot, do it again. He likes it."_

_Baby Harry looked up into his father's hazel eyes and then back to the man who was sitting on the kitchen floor in front of him. He laughed merrily and clapped his little hands. "'gain! 'gain, See-wus, 'gain!"_

_Sirius laughed his bark-like laugh and shook his head. "Fine, fine! But only because Harry asked, and he's much cuter than you."_

_James pretended to look hurt, and Lily rolled her eyes from her position over by the stove as Sirius transformed into his Animagus form and then back again as baby Harry squealed in delight._

Harry shook his head. There was no kitchen table anymore. There was hardly a kitchen. It was gone, grass and weeds poking through what was left of the floor. _It's amazing that this thing is still standing_, Harry thought, and figured it probably had something to do with the magic. _Perhaps it's somehow kept it intact?_

Being in the kitchen made him depressed. Sirius had come over a number of times in the short week that the Potters had been there. Dinner with "See-wus". Pulling himself away, he turned and headed back down the hall. He passed the stairs a second time, and an unwanted image flew into his mind.

"_Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"_

"_No! I'm not going without you!" His mother was holding him tightly as James pushed the two of them toward the stairs._

"_Lily, this is our _son_! Take him and hide. I'll be okay, I promise, it's okay..."_

_Baby Harry was crying, and there was a cackle in the background. Something behind them exploded. James ducked and shot a curse back toward where the laughter was coming from._

"_Lily, please!"_

_Tears were streaming down his wife's face. "I love you," Lily said, before turning and running up towards the second floor. She got to the top, and turned once more to look at her husband. "I love you, James Potter, do you hear me?"_

Harry suddenly felt dizzy again. This was it, he knew it. This was the spot, right here by the stairs.

This was where his father had been murdered. He was standing in the spot where James Potter had died, trying to protect his wife and son.

He suddenly felt the sudden urge to retch. _Well, Potter, this is what you came here for, right? You wanted to know what happened_, he berated himself. He should have known this would happen. Part of him wondered whether he had _hoped_ it would happen. As soon has he had steadied himself, he got shakily to his feet and faced the staircase. He didn't want to go up there; he knew what was up there. He knew more memories awaited him... one he would rather not like to relive. _Do it_, he told himself, forcefully. _You're a Gryffindor, dammit. Get up there and face it. Just get it over with. Then you'll know, and you can leave. _

Gritting his teeth, Harry started up the stairs to the second floor. It was on the seventh step that his foot went right through. Unlike the trick stair at Hogwarts which felt like you had put your foot through air, the wood splintered and the broken pieces pierced and stabbed at his flesh. Harry gasped in pain and gripped what was left of the railing to keep from falling and successfully breaking leg, as well as his neck. His pants were caught and he could feel the wood cutting his skin as he tried to pull it out. Part of him wished he had listened to Hermione at this moment, but the time for that had come and gone. Besides, he had come too far to let a crumbling staircase stand in his way. So, biting his lip to keep him from yelling out, he mustered up all of his strength and so called Gryffindor courage and pulled back on his leg as hard as he could. With a few more resounding snaps of wood his leg was free, albeit swollen, bleeding, and throbbing in pain. He leaned against the rail, panting slightly, vaguely aware that it was the same ankle that he had broken a week previously. Careful to avoid that step and not put too much weight on his injured leg, he trekked onward. He limped his way to the second floor and paused at the top to give his leg a rest. He looked back down the stairs to see a trail of blood drops. It annoyed him. _Mum hated messes_, he thought. The realization startled him. _Like Aunt Petunia. Eww..._

He took a moment then to look around what was left of the upstairs. From where he was standing, the wall that would have separated the outside from the rest of his house was gone and he could see clearly down Lion's Den Drive. Down the hall to his right was his room. If he followed that and made another right, it would take him to his parents' room. He started down the hall, which took him precariously close to the edge of the ruined house, and to his room. The door was partially hanging off it's hinges, and the wind was making it swing back and forth eerily. Harry found that he was suddenly shaking and had that urge to be sick again. He shook his head and took a few steps backward. "I can't... I can't go in there," he whispered as if he was a frightened child. The door swung forward and made a thunking sound as it hit the wall on the other side. Harry swallowed. "Fine," he whispered, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He gripped the locket, and said again, more strongly, "Fine."

* * *

Ron and Hermione, still concealed under the invisibility cloak, were sitting on the curb in front of the Potters' decaying house, Hermione nervously chewing on her lip. She kept stealing glances back at the house every couple of minutes as Ron just stared resolutely at the pavement below. The graying clouds above them had turned into a definite oncoming storm, and the wind was blowing much harder, making the normally warm August air chilly and unpleasant.

Hermione was taking her fiftieth or so glance at the house again when Ron shouted, "Would you stop it? You're making me nervous."

Hermione glared. "Keep your voice down. We're supposed to be invisible, remember?"

"Who's going to hear us, Hermione?" Ron snapped back. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm just worried."

"And I'm not? He's been in there too long."

The both of them jumped as they heard Harry yell from inside.

Ron jumped to his feet, pulling the cloak off Hermione in the process. "Ugh, Ron!" she yelled, clambering up to a standing position and throwing the cloak over herself again.

"Do you reckon we should go in there?" Ron asked her.

Hermione bit her lip nervously, but he knew her answer. "Whatever magic we feel here is affecting Harry," she said, finally. "He's remembering things, I know it." She gasped suddenly, and Ron turned to her, concern etched across his face.

"What? What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, Ron! Don't you get it? What did Harry hear in his head every time the Dementors came around?"

Ron thought for a moment, and then realization dawned on him. "Oh, no..."

"If he could remember that, then..." She stared at the house, a stricken look on her face.

"We should go in there. He should never have gone in alone," Ron said, firmly.

A popping sound made them both spin and look up and down the street, suspicious and scared.

"Did you hear that?" Hermione whispered, stepping closer to Ron.

He nodded. "I think we should get Harry now."

* * *

His old room hit Harry like an invisible blow. Everything was so familiar, so vivid... it was frightening, yet comforting at the same time. Just like with the hall way, the walls were gone so Harry could see the outside, which he noticed had darkened quite a bit. His crib was turned over, and there were leaves and sticks and dirt blown everywhere. Harry thought there had been a rocking chair in there as well, but it was nowhere to be found. Pictures laid in various places on the floor, their frames cracked. Broken glass that Harry figured came from the windows being blown up crunched beneath his trainers as he made his way around. Lying next to his crib was one of those hanging spinning things that parents placed over their babies cribs to help them get to sleep. There were little Quidditch players with brooms on it. Harry smiled and shook his head. _Definitely Dad's idea, _he thought, chuckling softly. He started over to it, intent on picking it up to examine it more closely, when another wave of memories hit him. While expected, they still made him gasp slightly as he relived the night of his parents' death.

_Lily held on to her son tightly as she stood by the door to his room, listening with barely controlled fear as her husband dueled with Voldemort below. "How did this happen? How..?" Her grip on Harry tightened as she realized the only possible explanation. Her green eyes hardened, and fury replaced her fear. "Peter," she growled, quietly. "That little rat!"_

_There was a crash from below and some cursing that had nothing to do with magic. Lily took a few steps backward into Harry's room. "I should be down there... I shouldn't have run. He needs me." Harry squirmed in her arms and let out a wail as if to say, "I need you, too!"_

_Lily gasped and jumped, backing into the door frame behind her as James let out a pained yell. "No," she whispered, horrified. "James, no!"_

_There was silence, then the sound a voice barely whispering a spell, a rushing sound, and a thud. Lily didn't try to delude herself. She knew that James was dead._

"_NO!" she screamed in anguish, making Harry cry harder. She heard a high pitched laugh from the first floor and the creak of feet on the stairs. She knew she had alerted Voldemort to their presence in the house. She rushed inside Harry's room and shut the door as the form of the Dark Lord reached the top of the staircase. Holding Harry in one arm, she took her wand out of her pocket and locked it, throwing up as many wards as she could think of, but she knew it was useless. He would come. He would come for Harry, just as he had tried to do for the last year. She cried silently as she rocked her son, stroking his head. "Why you, Harry? Why did he have to chose you?" _

_The whole room seemed to shake as Voldemort threw spells at the door, trying to force entry. Lily continued to back herself into the room, almost running into Harry's crib. She turned away from the door, tears leaking from her eyes and falling into Harry's hair. She would fight. She would fight to protect her son. She would fight for James._

_As she made this silent vow, the door was blasted open, and Lily felt a presence behind her. _

"_Give me the boy," a cold voice said. "And you may live."_

_Lily shut her eyes tightly and hugged the now quiet baby in her arms. Calling upon all her strength, she set Harry down in his crib and placed a blanket over him tenderly. Then, she turned to face her husband's murderer._

_She was not surprised at his snake-like appearance, having encountered him three times previously. He glared at her with his horrid red eyes. _

"_I said, stand aside," he said, more menacingly this time._

_Lily raised her wand. "No."_

_Voldemort laughed cruelly. "Don't be ridiculous, child. I dispatched your blood-traitor husband most effectively. Don't delude yourself into thinking that you stand a chance. I am giving you an opportunity to save yourself. Step away from the boy, and you will be spared."_

_Lily's eyes flashed, and she narrowed them in suspicion, never lowering her wand. "Why? You've killed hundred's of Muggle-borns. Why spare me?" _

_Voldemort regarded her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to divulge this information. "Because someone wishes it. And he has earned this reward," he answered. _

_Lily blinked in surprise. "What?"_

"_Enough of this!" Voldemort hissed. "Give me the child!"_

"_No! You can't! He's just a baby, he can't hurt you!"_

"_He can't hurt me yet!" Voldemort snarled. He flicked his wand and Lily was thrown roughly to the floor. Voldemort began to step over to her, toward Harry's crib-_

"_No!" Lily screamed, and waved her wand, nonverbally sending her own spell back at the Dark Lord, successfully knocking him backward and away from her son. She scrambled back to her feet, immediately placing herself between Voldemort and her son once more._

_The Dark Lord rose to his feet as well, barely concealed fury in his eyes. "You're very powerful, Mudblood. It would be a shame to kill you, even if you _are_ filth. Do you not understand that I am giving you an escape from death? Take it. Leave the child. You can always have more."_

"_I'm not afraid to die!" Lily hissed, leveling her wand at him once again, but her hand was shaking slightly. "I will not abandon my son. And you will not harm him!"_

_Voldemort growled in frustration and shot a nonverbal _Expeliarmus_ at her. She tried to block it, but was unsuccessful. Her wand flew out of her hand and over to the other side of the room. Harry began to cry again. Lily looked into Voldemort's eyes, as if looking for some fleeting sign of compassion in them, and then openly burst into tears._

_Voldemort looked disgusted at this sudden outpouring of emotion._

"_Please... please... not Harry, not my baby... he's just a baby, please...!" she pleaded, desperately._

"_Move," Voldemort ordered._

"_Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I'll do anything -"_

"_Stand aside! Stand aside, girl!"_

"_Not Harry!" she repeated, almost maniacally, shaking her head back and forth making her hair whip around her like fire. "Not Harry, please not Harry!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl!" Voldemort yelled angrily. "Stand aside now!"_

"_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-"_

"_I am giving you a chance to flee! Take it!" Voldemort hissed. "I will not offer it again!"_

"_Not Harry!" Lily pleaded again. "Please... have mercy... have mercy..."_

_Voldemort laughed suddenly, cold and cruel. "Mercy? What do I know of mercy? It's not out of mercy that I offered you a chance to save yourself. It seems as though my servant will have to make due without you, I'm afraid." He smiled ferally. "I've given you your chance. Stand aside now, or die."_

_But Lily wasn't listening anymore. She just kept crying and repeating, "Please, he's just a baby, please... not Harry..."_

_Voldemort laughed at her one last time before pointing his wand straight at her chest and saying, in obvious enjoyment, "_Avada Kedavra!_"_

_Lily didn't have any time to scream. Her pleas died on her lips as the rush of the Killing Curse hit her, and her body crumpled to the ground. Voldemort nudged it out of the way with his foot as he slowly walked to Harry's crib. Ripping the blanket of him, he picked Harry up roughly and all but dropped him next to the body of his mother. He'd stopped crying, and now blinked up with green eyes at Voldemort with a curious expression. _

"_Ba!" Harry said, pointing at him._

_Voldemort snorted. "So, this is the one who would defeat me?" He pointed his wand at the baby in front of him. "So much for the would-be hero."_

_Harry giggled at the wand now being directed at him. His daddy had one of those. He made grabbing motions as Voldemort narrowed his red eyes and said, "Good-bye, Harry Potter._

"Avada Kedavra_!"_

_There was a rushing sound, and then an immense pressure followed by pain in Harry's head. _

_Then nothing._

_

* * *

_

Harry awoke to darkness. Or, what seemed like darkness. Everything was fuzzy, and his

ears were ringing. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. He could hear a voice. It was muffled, as if someone had placed something over his ears. _Must have been from the explosion_, he thought, vaguely, too out of sorts to realize that there had not really been an explosion. The voice was deep, he realized, and he felt like he had heard it somewhere before. There was a shape moving toward him. His eyes were still fuzzy, and he blinked rapidly to try and make the shape out.

It was a person, and it was shouting something now. Harry strained his ears, trying to figure out what it was saying.

"Hello?" Harry rasped. He coughed and cleared his throat. "Who's there?"

The shape was coming closer. His ears had stopped ringing, and he could hear the voice clearly now.

"_Lily! Answer me!"_

Harry shook his head in confusion, closing his eyes tightly.

"Harry?"

He looked up to see Hermione standing over him, concern etched across her face. Ron was behind her, leaning against the broken door.

"Her-Hermione? Ron? What are you doing here?" he asked. He coughed and looked around. "Why am I on the floor?"

It took him a moment to realize that he was laying in almost the same place where his mother had fallen. He stiffened, and Hermione kneeled down beside him.

"We heard a yell. Are you alright?" she asked.

"She died here," Harry whispered, placing a hand on the floor next to him. "My mum." His eyes filled with tears, and this throat constricted. "You were right, Hermione. This place did do something to me. I remember." A few tears leaked out of his eyes. "I remember_ everything_. My mum used to sing Pat-a-Cake to me in that playroom downstairs. Sirius used to come over for dinner all the time and mum cooked. He would turn into a dog over and over because it made me laugh. That-that dining room..."

He began to cry openly now, and Hermione wasn't quite sure whether or not to cry herself. She looked at Ron, who was staring open mouthed at his friend as if horrified by what he was saying.

"That dining room... my father toasted Pettigrew there. He _thanked_ him for saving us. And my dad died at the foot of the stairs. He told mum to run. She came up here, she heard them fighting, she heard him-" Harry stopped, clearing his throat.

"'Mione, she heard Voldemort kill him. She hid in here with me... she begged him to kill her instead of me. He told her to move... I remember..."

Hermione nodded. "That's why the spell bounced off you. Because Lily wasn't supposed to die. I wish we knew-"

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand suddenly. "He said-Voldemort said one of his servants... something about her being spared because someone asked him to, and that person earned his reward."

"What?" Ron asked, incredulously, while Hermione just stared in shock. "One of the Death Eaters wanted Voldemort to spare your mum? Why?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. And my mum seemed pretty surprised as well."

Ron snorted disgustedly. "Probably for some twisted reason. Those sick bastards."

"Harry this is incredible. We've finally learned something of what happened here!" Hermione said.

"Sort of. We still don't know who asked Voldemort, why they wanted my mum to live, and why Voldemort would even grant such a wish to begin with," Harry muttered. He rubbed his forehead. "I felt the spell again. I heard the explosion. I think I passed out. When I came to, I couldn't see or hear anything. Hang on," he said, suddenly, remembered the voice. "I heard... _something_... right after I woke up."

"You probably heard us," Ron told him. "We were calling your name trying to find you."

"You probably heard Ron put his foot through that stair," Hermione amended, and Ron blushed.

"Eh, it's not too bad. And it looks like I wasn't the only one," he said, indicating Harry's ankle, which had turned the carpet where his foot lay a deep red.

"No, no, no," Harry said, exasperated. "It wasn't your voice I heard. And it wasn't saying my name. It... it was calling for my mum."

Hermione blinked. "Your mum? Are you sure?"

Harry gave her a look. "I haven't gone daft or anything, Hermione," he said, picking himself up off the floor.

"Well, maybe it was a different memory, from when you first moved in or something," Ron suggested. "It was probably your dad."

"No," Harry said, firmly. "It wasn't dad. I could tell. I recognized it, though. I just... don't know who it was. And it was after my parents were killed and Voldemort tried to kill me. I remember sort of now... my head was still fuzzy from the explosion, there was smoke and stuff... and I saw someone coming down the hall yelling for my mum." He shook his head. "But that's it. Then I blinked and saw you guys instead."

Hermione regarded him carefully. "Well, we'll figure it out. Right now, we need to get you out of here."

Ron came forward to help Harry to his feet. "You're not having too good a luck with that ankle, mate."

The house suddenly shook violently, making all three friends jump, and Harry very nearly fell over again.

"What the hell was that?" Ron asked.

"The house," Harry realized. "It's coming down." The house shook again, and a hunk of the ceiling came crashing to the floor, barely missing Hermione.

"Run!" Harry shouted, bolting for the door. His bleeding ankle was screaming in pain, but he didn't care. He had to get his friends to safety.

The three of them tore down the hall - Hermione very nearly falling off the ledge when the house gave another lurch - and down the stairs. They had to duck away from pieces of the ceiling as the house literally started to come apart around them. "Come on, hurry!" Harry shouted again, wrenching the door open. Ron, pulling Hermione, leapt out and down the stairs first with Harry soon after. They made it to the street and had barely turned around when the foundation collapsed. The second storey came crashing down upon the first, and erupted in a huge cloud of smoke. Hermione did a quick shielding charm to protect them from the dust. When it had cleared, all that remained of Harry's old house was rubble. Only the chimney was intact, and it stuck out of the mess in an almost comic fashion.

"Whoa," breathed Ron. "What happened?"

"Me," Harry said, quietly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "You didn't do that!"

"But I did. I came here. It was waiting for me. I came, and it showed me what it was supposed to. Now, it's over."

The three friends stood in silence and stared at the remnants of the Potters' house, holding each other tightly.

"We should go," Hermione said, softly. "Ron and I heard a noise before we came to get you. It sounded like someone Apparating."

Harry turned to her sharply.

"We're probably going to have to move along quickly to get to the cemetery," she continued, fishing the map out of her jacket pocket. "It's not far from here. About five miles, but if it _was_ someone Apparating, we should probably Apparate ourselves. I know it's risky, but we need to get back to headquarters as soon as possible." She handed Ron the map. "Destination, determination, deliberation."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he sighed, snatching the map and quickly memorizing the address. "See you there."

Hermione nodded. "Harry... you ready?"

Harry was surprised to here himself say, "Yes." But, it was true. He was finally ready to put Godric's Hollow behind him. He had learned about his parents' death. He'd learned all he could from the house. There were still questions, but they were ones that would have to be answered elsewhere.

He felt Hermione grip his arm and heard the popping sound as Ron disappeared. With one more glance at his ruined house, he and Hermione followed.


	10. Obex Obduco

Chapter Seven

_Obex Obduco_

James and Lily's graves were toward the middle of the ancient looking Folly Gate Cemetary. The old grave digger, who was roaming about removing all the dead flowers, directed them to a slightly large statue of an angel, who was looking down upon two markers.

_James Charlus Potter_

_February 6, 1960 - October 31, 1981_

_Beloved husband, father, son, and friend_

_Lily Evans Potter_

_April 5, 1960 - October 31, 1981_

_Beloved wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend_

Ron and Hermione respectfully stood back as Harry knelt down in front of the angel, brushing some dried leaves from his parents' grave markers. He realized that he had no idea what he wanted to say. It was all too surreal, actually being here at their burial site... actually having been to the house where Voldemort had attacked them. He hadn't prepared at all. The wind blew his hair into his eyes, and he brushed it away impatiently as the sound of thunder could be heard in the distance.

"Um, hi," he said, quietly, feeling rather awkward. "It's-it's me. Harry." He cleared his throat, and Hermione tugged on Ron's arm to indicate they should give Harry some more space to allow him to speak to his parents. "Well, I finally made it. Took me long enough, huh? It took me all this time to get anyone to talk to me about where I could find you. Remus finally gave me a map. He's doing fine, by the way. Head of the Order now because of... well, Dumbledore... he's probably wherever you are now so I'm sure you know all about that. Anyway, he's seeing Tonks now. You know, Sirius' cousin? I think he's happy. He deserves to be happy." He glanced back toward his friends. "I'm happy, too, for the most part. I have two best friends, just like you did, Dad. Ron and Hermione. Ron's a Weasley and Hermione's a Muggleborn. She's brilliant; the top of our class and she's Head Girl this year. Ron... well, Ron's my best mate. I trust him with my life. He's never judged me because of who I am, and it's only gotten to him a few times. I understand. I'm sure it's not easy being my friend. He and Hermione have gotten together, actually. And it's about time, too.

"I, um... I've found someone as well. Her name's Ginny. She's Ron's little sister, and a year behind me. We were both on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Oh, yeah! I'm a Seeker, and I was the youngest person ever admitted on a House Team. I was Quidditch Captain last year. Ginny plays Chaser, and since I'm not going back to school, she got Captain this time. Yeah... I don't know whether you're disappointed in me or proud of me for dropping out. Of course, you probably know why I had to do it. You probably already know a lot of what I'm telling you. You-you can see stuff from... wherever you are, right? So, you know all about the Chamber, and the TriWizard Tournament, and Voldemort, and Snape. Yeah, Snape... I haven't the time in the world to go into Snape."

He sighed as the rain finally started to fall, making "pat, pat, pat" noises on the angel statue. "About Ginny... I, um... I kind of left her. I didn't want to do it. God, I didn't want to. The thing with Cho... that was nothing. Absolutely nothing; just me having a crush and being ridiculous. What I feel for Ginny is beyond words, it's beyond everything. I think... I think I love her, Mum... Dad. And because I love her, I had to leave her. I love her more than I've ever loved anything else. And I'm scared. I'm terrified for her, for Ron and Hermione... for me."

Harry suddenly punched the ground angrily. "I don't know what to do! How am I supposed to destroy three, maybe four, Horcruxes and then destroy Voldemort himself? Dumbledore couldn't even do it! He-he got hurt because of the ring, he died because of that potion... because it made him too weak to fight Snape. And then here I am. Me, who hasn't finished school, who is nowhere near the top of my class, who can't even do nonverbal spells yet for God's sake... and _I'm_ supposed to defeat the most feared Wizard in the world? How did this happen? _Why_ did this happen? Why aren't you here? I need you."

The rain started falling harder now. Hermione had transfigured an umbrella out of a twig, and she and Ron were taking cover under it.

"It's not fair," Harry muttered. "It's not fair this happened to you, or to me. I don't... I don't blame you. Not really. If it hadn't been me, it would have been Neville. And I wouldn't wish this life upon anyone. I won't say that I hope watching me doesn't make you sad, because I know that it does. Just know that, even though I never really knew you, I still look up to you. You were both brave, and smart, and talented. Everyone loved you. I love you. And I miss you. And... I'm okay." _For now_, he added silently.

He sat there for a few moments longer, already soaking wet but no longer caring. Then, when he was ready, he stood up and brushed the mud of his pants. He whispered an incantation, and flowers shot out of his wand. He placed them on his mother's grave. He said the incantation again, and placed the other flowers on his father's. He heard movement behind him, and felt Ron and Hermione come and stand next to him.

"You alright?" Ron asked.

"I am now," Harry answered.

He felt Hermione slip her hand in his and give it a squeeze. "I'm proud of you, Harry. You did what you set out to do." He felt a spell being used and winced slightly at the pinching sensation in his forehead. Hermione had given him back his scar.

Harry almost laughed. "You were the one telling me we should turn back," he said, grinning.

Hermione blushed. "Yes, well... for once, I'm glad you didn't listen to me."

"I'll be sure to do it more often."

The rain began to let up, and Hermione reverted the umbrella back into the twig, and tossed it onto the ground. The thunder was still rolling, however, and there was a flash of lightning in the distance.

"Come on," she said, "I think's it's just the calm before another storm hits. We should get going. Remus-"

"Well, well, well," a voice drawled behind them. A cool, dark, and dangerous voice. A voice that made Harry's blood boil. "Caught unawares yet again, Potter? Will you never learn?"

The three friends dared not to turn around. Hermione had paled, and she was gripping Harry's hand tighter than ever. "Don't," she whispered to him. "Just don't."

"Although, I can't say I'm surprised," the hated voice continued. "You always were rather slow, weren't you, Potter?"

Harry visibly stiffened, and as one, he, Ron, and Hermione finally turned to meet the owner of that voice.

Their ex-Potions's Master and Dumbledore's murderer.

Severus Snape.

"I was wondering when you were going to show yourself," Harry spat, venomously. "I'm surprised you..." He trailed off has he and his friends came face to face with not only Snape, but Voldemort, and about a dozen other Death Eaters as well. They were all masked except for the Dark Lord.

"Oh, fuck," Ron blurted out.

Next to one of the Death Eaters, the old gravedigger was floating, clearly dead. His head lolled to one side.

"Mr. Weasley, as eloquent as always," Snape sneered. It was impossible to know which Death Eater he was. "Yes, it seems your heroic best friend has lead you to certain doom once again. Wouldn't you say so, My Lord?"

Voldemort laughed softly. "You were quite right, Severus. The boy does have the tendency to be a bit... stupid." He flicked his wand, and the body of the gravedigger flew forward and landed at Harry's feet.

The rest of the Death Eaters joined in the laughter.

Harry gritted his teeth and went for his wand. "Let go of me, Hermione."

She shook her head and gripped him even harder. Harry swore his fingers were going to be bruised. "No. Hang on to me. We need to get away."

"Like hell," Harry snapped at her.

"I think you've made him angry, Severus," Voldemort taunted. "You've been decidedly foolish lately, boy. This is the second time we've faced each other because your Gryffindor idiocy has allowed you to aimlessly wander about. I keep telling you, Harry, that you ought to listen to your Mudblood."

"You'll find, My Lord, that Potter rarely listens to anyone," Snape said, and Harry could just imagine the smirk that was forming on his face.

"Come to visit your parents graves, I see. Seeking answers amongst the dead?" Voldemort smiled cruelly. "What an ingenious twist of fate that you should die on top of their burial markers."

"Who said anything about Harry dying?" Ron snarled. He moved closer to his friend, while on the other side, Hermione did the same, as if entrenching Harry between the two of them.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters laughed. "How amusing. Look... look how they move to protect him. Are they your servants now, Harry?"

"He's baiting you," Hermione hissed. "Don't listen."

"I'm not going to lose the two of you. This is my fight-" Harry argued.

"No! We're in this together." She pulled her wand. "All of you, stand back!"

Voldemort and the others laughed harder than ever. "And what, exactly, do you plan to do, you filthy Muggle spawn? Even you are smart enough to know you cannot possibly defeat me."

"Hermione," Ron whispered, frightened, and shook his head at her.

Voldemort regarded Harry carefully. "You have to know you cannot hope to win, Harry. Especially against Severus. He's my most trusted servant now, you know. And, of course, you know it was he who alerted me to the prophecy."

Harry's eyes flashed in anger.

"Should I dispose of him for you, My Lord?" Snape asked.

"Enough of this, you fucking coward! Where are you? You can't even show your face to me, can you?" Harry snorted. "Pathetic."

The rabble in front of them suddenly got silent.

"You were quite right, Severus," Voldemort said, after a moment. "He cares nothing about me." He turned quickly to the Death Eater on his right. "Show yourself."

The Death Eater's mask melted away to reveal Severus Snape. His black eyes were narrowed, and bored them into Harry's. He could almost feel the hate radiating from them.

"I thought we discussed you using that word, Potter," Snape said, every so quietly, ever so dangerously.

"I thought you would have realized that I don't care," Harry shot back. He shouldered his way past Ron and Hermione. "Are you going to dock points? Give me detention? Five hundred billion points from Gryffindor or something?"

"Harry Potter, get back here!" Hermione hissed. "How dare you be so stupid-"

"Be quiet, Hermione."

"No, I will not! You are letting your feelings blind you."

"Listen to Miss Granger, Potter," Snape said. "You do not want to fight me."

"Yes, I do," Harry growled. He raised his wand, and, lightning fast, Snape did the same.

Voldemort clapped appreciatively. "How entertaining! Please continue."

The rest of the Death Eaters jeered Snape and Harry on, beginning to form a circle around them.

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter. You've learned nothing since our last encounter. I will block you with astounding ease," Snape said, silkily.

"I'm not afraid of you," Harry said, back.

Snape smiled. "Yes. You are."

Harry reflexively started to look away, because he knew what Snape was about to do, when he realized that his ex-Potion's Master was looking at a point behind him.

At Hermione.

He sent the slicing hex he'd been practicing at Snape, who quickly blocked it, giving Harry time to yell, "Don't look at him, Hermione."

She gasped and pulled out her own wand.

"He'll use Legilimency on you. Don't look at his eyes," Harry warned, and then suddenly felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. He fell backward and into the angel, the wind knocked out of him due to the force of Snape's spell.

"Harry!" Ron yelled, helping his friend to his feet.

The Death Eaters laughed and applauded. "Something more creative this time, don't you think, Severus?" Voldemort said. Snape nodded.

Harry coughed and sputtered as he tried to regain his footing. Snape raised his wand, and Harry noticed that he was again focusing on Hermione.

"Leave her alone, you son of a-"

But Hermione suddenly jumped in front of him and Ron. She swung her arm in an arc, and as she brought it back down, shouted, "_Obex Obduco_!"

All twelve Death Eaters, Snape, and even Voldemort, were suddenly hurled violently backward about ten feet. They thudded to the ground, two of the Death Eaters actually crashing into some of the other statues in the graveyard.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm. "Ron, go! Now!" she ordered, and spun quickly, trailing Harry behind her. Before anyone could get to their feet, the three had disappeared.

After a few beats, a couple of the Death Eaters struggled to their feet. Voldemort slowly floated up to a standing position. Looking around in an almost bored fashion, he sent the ones who had gotten up flying backward once again and into a large stone mausoleum with bone shattering strength.

"Up, Severus," he ordered, stepping over to him and toward the grave markers of Lily and James.

Snape complied, trailing behind the Dark Lord.

"Interesting that she used that spell," Voldemort said, not turning around. "I wonder where she learned it."

Snape came to stand beside Voldemort, who was looking down upon Lily and James' graves with a curious expression. "I cannot hope to guess, My Lord. However, she is very intelligent for a Mudblood. And I have already told you that Potter found my book."

"Ah, yes," Voldemort said. "Your book." He said nothing for a while, and during this silence the rest of his followers had regained their footing and came to stand behind him. Then, very suddenly, he turned to Snape and hissed: "Return to your home, my friend, and continue working on the potions. I have... work... to do here."

Snape bowed. "As you wish, My Lord."

He took a few steps back from the Potters' graves, and then he, like Harry, Ron, and Hermione, disappeared.

* * *

Ron, Harry, and Hermione reappeared in front of the row of houses that contained Number 12, Grimmauld Place. They had barely caught their breath, when Harry reeled on Hermione. 

"How could you do that? I was ready for him! You had no right, Hermione, absolutely no right at all!"

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously. "I had every right in the world! I am your friend, Harry! Ron is your friend. We were trying to save you. I'm glad that we went to Godric's Hollow and you learned about your past, but I did warn you that something was going to happen. But you just didn't care! You are being so ludicrously stupid that I can't stand it! Snape is way too powerful, and you damn well know it! There is no way you would have stood a chance against either him or Voldemort. We were outnumbered, and you need to worry less about vengeance, and just concentrate more on staying alive long enough to fulfill the prophecy!" She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, and her hair was bushier than ever.

Harry tried to glare at her some more but it was no use. He knew she was right. He looked to Ron.

"That was a really close call," he said. Harry nodded. "We should really stop doing that. I think next time I may have a heart attack."

"You're not ready, Harry," Hermione said again, softer this time.

"Yeah, I know," Harry admitted, scowling. "Just... ugh, that bastard, hiding behind his mask, taunting me like that."

"It worked. You rose to the bait," Hermione pointed out. Harry said nothing.

"Come on," Ron panted. "Let's go inside and report to Remus."

They started toward Number 12, which showed itself as they got closer.

"That was a really cool spell, hon," Ron said to Hermione. "Where did you learn that?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, as if thinking about what to say. "I don't know. It just sort of came to me."

"Well, you know so many spells, I'm sure it's hard trying to keep track of all the books you found them in," Ron told her, giving Hermione a wink.

"Very funny, Ronald."

Harry unlocked the door, and the three friends stepped through into the dimly lit parlor. "I've seen that spell before."

Ron and Hermione blinked. "Really?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "When I was in my house. One of my memories... the one of my mum fighting Voldemort. It was nonverbal, but it had the same effect. She sent Voldemort flying backward into a wall."

Hermione said nothing to this except, "Hmmm..." so Harry chose to drop it, and they started down to the kitchens to try and find Remus.

"Have you thought anymore about who that voice could have been?" Ron asked him.

"When did I have time?" Harry pointed out.

"True. Do you think it could have been Sirius? Hagrid said he came to the house after Voldemort-"

"No, it wasn't Sirius. Hagrid had already found me in the house before he showed up, remember? The voice was... I dunno, it was sort of muffled, but I could tell it was deep. And I know I've heard it before. I just don't know where, because I could barely hear it. It's starting to bother me."

"Well, you'll figure it out," Ron told him.

"Oh, thank Merlin! Where have you three _been_?" they heard Mrs. Weasley yell from the floor above them.

"Oh, great," Ron moaned. "Just what we need." He went to the foot of the stairs and yelled back, "We've been fighting Snape, Voldemort, and a dozen other Death Eaters at Godric's Hollow!"

There was a very long pause.

"By the way," Ron added, "what's for dinner?"

* * *

After a severe telling off from Mrs. Weasley, who couldn't believe that the three had done something so foolish after what happened the last time, Harry went off in search of Remus. He told him about what he had found at Godric's Hollow, and also about his confrontation with Snape and Voldemort. 

"I told you, you shouldn't have gone," Remus yelled. "You could have-"

"Died?" Harry finished. Remus glowered at him. "I know, okay? But, like I said, we planned for it and we came back okay. It was Hermione's doing, really. She cast this really powerful spell called _Obex Obduco_ or something. I haven't read about it in any of my books. Anyway, it sent everyone, even Voldemort, flying."

"She used the _Obex Obduco_?" Remus repeated.

"Yeah, you know it?" Harry asked.

"I know _of_ it. It's not an easy spell to master. It takes great power and great determination. It's a very potent shielding charm. More of a weapon, then a shield, really. She did it on her first try?"

Harry nodded.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Well, that is a triumph. That's how you escaped?"

"Yeah. After they flew backward, we Apparated back here." Harry shifted uncomfortably for a moment. "Remus... when I was in my house... well, before it fell down... I-I remembered things."

Remus looked up sharply. "You what? Harry, you were barely over one year old when you lived there."

"I know. I think... I think it might have been the magic in the house. I think it was holding it together, too. But, I remembered things. I saw Sirius, and my dad's study. And the night that they died."

Remus paled. "You-you remembered that?"

Harry nodded. "I could remember bits and pieces when the Dementor's came around, you know? But when I was in the house, I remembered everything."

Remus said nothing for a long time. He got up and poured himself and Harry some tea. "I'm sorry," he said, finally.

Harry stared at him, bemused. "What for?"

"You shouldn't have to remember that. It's an awful thing, and... I'm sorry."

Harry sighed. "Part of me was upset, but... I'm okay with it now. I learned things from it. I found out something about my mum being spared. One of the Death Eaters asked Voldemort to do it."

Remus froze in the middle of handing Harry his teacup. "What?"

"Yeah, he said... 'because one of my servants wishes it, and he has earned this reward.' Ron figures it was for some horrid reason." He took his tea from Remus, who sat down opposite of Harry again. The two of them drank in silence for a while, before Harry cleared his throat and said, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and I've just now got up the courage to do it."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "By all means, Harry."

Harry put his cup down and looked Remus full in the face. "Snape was at my parents wedding."

Remus blinked in surprise. "Snape what?"

"Snape was at my parents wedding," Harry repeated. "He came to see my mum. I was wondering if you knew why."

Remus averted his eyes. "That's... I'm afraid I have no idea, Harry. Lily never mentioned anything about it. Where did you hear this?"

"Aunt Petunia. She was listening to them."

"Well, then, you must know why he was there, if she was eavesdropping."

Harry nodded. "I do. He came to warn her about the Dementors, and try to get her to not marry my dad. That's what I thought you could help me with."

"Why would you think-"

"Were Snape and my mum friends, Remus?" Harry asked.

The werewolf looked thrown. "Harry, I... I was more friends with James than Lily when we were in school. I didn't really start hanging out with her until she and James got serious in our seventh year. She was in my House, and in a lot of my classes, and I can tell you that she was funny, brilliant, and quite cheeky with Professor Slughorn. I don't think she liked him very much. But..." he trailed off, and Harry could tell that Remus was holding something back. "All I can tell you is that Snape and Lily always used to partner together in Potions. Other than that, I do not know."

For some strange reason, Harry seriously doubted that. Then again, Remus Lupin had absolutely know reason to lie to him. _Come to think of it_, Harry decided, _the idea of my mother being friends with someone like Snape is completely absurd_.

Harry nodded. "Okay."

"Now," Remus started, "there are some other, more boring things, I need to discuss with you, mainly concerning Dumbledore's will."

"His will? Why?"

"Well, it seems he left a few things to you, Harry," Remus explained. Harry was in shock.

"Why would he do that?" he asked.

Remus gave him a look. "Perhaps you weren't aware, Harry, but he was really quite fond of you. And, I'm sure he had a number of things in his possession that he thought you might, er, need later.

"So, the Ministry has been going over the will. Most of the possessions and assets have fallen to Aberforth, of course. But, Dumbledore apparently has left you a number of things. One that I am certain of is his Pensieve."

Harry frowned. "Why would he leave me that?"

"I'm not sure, Harry. We won't know anything until it's reconciled and we receive a copy. We also can't get any of what he's left to you until it's reconciled. And, of course, Aberforth can always challenge it, but I don't think that will be a problem."

Harry was at a complete loss for what to say. He was extremely humbled by the fact that Dumbledore would think him deserving of anything that he had possessed, especially his Pensieve.

"I also wanted to speak to you about Kreacher," Remus continued, snapping Harry out of it.

"Um, okay. What about him?"

"Well, what do you plan to do with him, for starters."

Harry sighed. "I never wanted him to begin with. Dumbledore and I had him sent to Hogwarts so he could be watched."

"And I think it's a good idea that he remain there, don't you? That way Minerva can keep an eye on him."

Harry nodded. "And Dobby, too."

Remus nodded. "Also, I've spoken to Arthur and Molly about them moving into Grimmauld Place..."

Harry brightened up considerably.

"And, they said they wouldn't want to impose upon you like that."

"But... I asked them to move in!"

"And I explained that to them. They've been in that house for decades, Harry, I'm sure it's hard for them to leave it. But, they did say that they would think about it."

"Maybe I should go talk to them."

"No, Harry. Let them decide for themselves."

Harry looked grumpy for a moment before nodding in agreement.

"Excellent," Remus said, standing up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I promised Tonks that I would meet her when she got off duty."

"Sure," Harry said, grinning.

"I'm glad you're okay, Harry," Remus said, genuinely, and took his leave.

Harry sighed. "If only I _was_ okay," he muttered.

* * *

Over the next few days before Ron and Hermione returned to Hogwarts, the three of them spent their time either in Harry and Ron's room practicing spells - now that Harry was of age - or downstairs helping Mrs. Weasley and Remus with the house. Harry, of course, was absent from time to time to attend Order meetings, which he would promptly go and recount with his two friends. 

"I don't see why they just won't let us join, too," Ron muttered grumpily over a game of chess one day. "You're going to tell us everything anyway."

The day before Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's departure, Mrs. Weasley came into Harry and Ron's room and told him that Professor McGonnagal was there to speak to him.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. "Um, okay," Harry said. "Tell her I'll be right down."

A few moments later found Harry walking down the stairs to the kitchen to find Professor McGonnagal waiting for him, deep in conversation with Moody and Remus.

He knocked on the door frame before asking, "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

Moody and Remus exchanged glances, before Remus said, "Come on, Mad-Eye. Molly thinks that boggart might have gone back in the wardrobe again."

Harry rolled his eyes at them as they went back upstairs, and then turned back to the stern looking, newly appointed Headmistress.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Harry realized that she was probably waiting for him to ask her to sit down, as Grimmauld Place was now officially his house.

"Er, sit down. Do you want some tea or something?" Harry asked, feeling very awkward. This was the first time anyone had expected him to play host, and he suddenly felt guilty about the fact that Remus and Mrs. Weasley were off cleaning his house while he traipsed off with Ron and Hermione and practice spells in his room.

"Tea would be fine, thank you," said Professor McGonnagal, sitting down in one the chairs. Harry walked into the main cooking area and thankfully found the kettle still on the stove, figuring that Remus and Moody must have been in the middle of having a cup when McGonnagal showed up. Harry brought out the kettle and tea bags, and then successfully bewitched a tray to follow him carrying the cups, saucers, sugars, and cream. He made the tea for him and his once Transfiguration instructor, who took the cup with a "thank you", and added her own cream and sugar.

"I see you've been practicing your Charms work," she said, after Harry had ended the spell and placed everything on the table.

"What? Oh, yeah... my birthday was a few weeks ago..." Harry began.

"I know when your birthday is, Potter. And I know that you are now of age and capable of making your own decisions, however rash that they may be."

Harry felt something like a stone drop into his stomach, and he fought very hard against sighing impatiently. _I knew it_, he thought.

"Am I to understand that you again faced the Dark Lord, Potter?" McGonnagal asked.

"Yes," Harry said, boldly. "I went to Godric's Hollow, to visit my parents graves."

McGonnagal almost faltered at that. "Ah, well... Am I also to understand that young Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley also accompanied you?"

"Of course."

Harry wasn't sure if this honest behavior was working or not, but he could tell that McGonnagal was looking at him quite differently than she used to when he was in her class. "Well, at least you're behaving somewhat like an adult about all this and holding your temper. Although, I have no doubt that you would rather tell me where to put my lecture, and then tell me to get out."

Harry almost choked on his tea.

"Oh, do come off it, Mr. Potter," she sighed, handing him a napkin. "I will admit that you risking your life and the life of your friends for the second time in a few months is only part of the reason I have come to talk to you today. Actually, I have come to discuss your decision to not return to Hogwarts."

Harry froze. He slowly put down his napkin and his cup. "With all due respect Professor, that really isn't any of your business."

If McGonnagal was at all angry or surprised by his sudden change of tactics, she did not show it. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. As you said, I'm of age, and I can make my own decisions. Actually, I decided this after Dumbledore's funeral. Ron and Hermione tried to say they weren't going to go back either, but I know Hermione, at least, has changed her mind."

"Well, I certainly hope Mr. Weasley has as well, since they both leave tomorrow," sniffed McGonnagal.

"That's not the point, Professor. I'm sorry that you had to come down here and all, but it's not going to work. Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Remus, and Kingsley have already tried. I'm not going back. I have things I need to do."

"Things that are more important than finishing your wizarding education?"

"Yes."

"Things that you probably will not be able to accomplish with only six years of magical training?"

Harry didn't answer right away. "I've been studying on my own," he said, finally. "I have books-"

"You have books," McGonnagal repeated, slowly. "Mr. Potter, I may not know what you and Albus were up to the night he... that night. However, I have come to the conclusion that it was something that you yourself seem to think you need to finish. And I will say this to you Potter, right now, once and for all, that if Albus Dumbledore could not do it, than you most certainly cannot. You are seventeen, only have six years of magical education, and it would take you a great many years to be the sort of wizard that Dumbledore was."

"How did you know that I wasn't coming back?" Harry asked, suddenly.

"Do not change the subject, Mr. Potter."

"Again, with all due respect, you are not my Professor anymore. And it's going to stay that way. I made a promise to Dumbledore that I wouldn't tell anyone, save Ron and Hermione, what we were doing... what _he_ had been doing... that whole year. And I _do_ need to finish it. And I _will_ finish it. Dumbledore wanted me to, otherwise he never would have brought me along, and he never would have showed me how. I know I'm not... I know I'll never be as powerful as he was. But this is something _I have to do_. And no one, and I mean _no one_, is going to change my mind."

"You," McGonnagal said. "This is something that _you_ have to do?"

"Yes."

"Then I can safely assume that it has something to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

Harry once again gripped the locket that was around his neck. "It has everything to do with him."

"I see. Potter, you are being ridiculous. You cannot possibly-"

"I think I've heard enough about what I can't do, thanks," Harry said, hotly.

McGonnagal glared hard at him.

"You're not changing my mind. No one is. This is more important than school. I know I'm nowhere near prepared. I know there's a good chance that I may die. But, I can't. And I won't. Because I will still have one more thing left to do."

McGonnagal regarded him silently for a long time. Harry took this opportunity to clean up from their tea, which was still relatively untouched. "You've suddenly grown up far too fast, Mr. Potter," she said, making Harry stop. "Something has changed in you."

Harry shrugged. "Something had to change."

"You wanted to know how I knew you weren't coming back?" McGonnagal asked.

Harry nodded.

"There's a list of names in Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. It's a list of all the magical children that are born each year, that will eventually come to Hogwarts. It also keeps a list of all the children that are still in attendance. Your name disappeared."

"Ron's didn't?" asked Harry.

McGonnagal paused for a moment, as if deciding whether or not she should say anything. "It did, for a moment. But not anymore." She looked at him sharply. "I do not want you to think this some sort of betrayal on his part."

"I don't. At first, I was really happy that it would be the three of us, but then, I got sad. It's one thing for me to decide to not go back to school. I didn't want to be the reason they didn't finish. But," he added, "I do expect them to help me now and then. And... it would, er, be nice if they could spend more time here with me at Grimmauld Place. You know... instead of living at, er, school."

McGonnagal's face had gotten icier at those last few comments. "Hmph," she said, rising up from the table. "We'll see about that."

"Professor, if you don't mind my asking, when did my name disappear?"

"Shortly after Dumbledore's funeral."

Harry frowned. "Then why didn't you come talk to me sooner?"

McGonnagal straightened her robes and fixed Harry with an almost sympathetic expression. "Because, I had rather hoped you would have come to your senses on your own."

"Yeah," said Harry, "I've never really been any good at that."

* * *

A few hours later found Harry sitting cross-legged in an old armchair that looked out into the street in front of Number 12. McGonnagal had gone after her unsuccessful attempt to "talk sense" into Harry, and the sun had started to set, casting his hiding place in a dull, orange glow. With a sigh, he got up and headed up the stairs to his room that he had been sharing with Ron. 

He found his best friend sitting on his bed looking to be in quite a mood. Hermione and Ginny - who looked to be in just a foul a mood as Ron - were there as well, sitting on Harry's bed. Ron muttered a dull greeting as Harry walked through the doorway.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said, tiredly. "What did Professor McGonnagal want?"

"Have you been talking to her all this time?" Ginny asked.

Harry shook his head. "No. She left hours ago. I've been downstairs thinking." He noticed that Ron's trunk was still empty by the foot of his bed, and his things were still laying about all over the room.

Ginny sighed. "Don't pay any attention to him. He's pouting because he's just had a row with me and Mum and he knows we're right."

Ron scowled. "Oh, shut up, will you? And for the last time, get out of my room."

Hermione sighed and resolved to stay out of it, instead going back to the book that was in her lap.

"It's not just _your_ room. It's Harry's, too. And it's Harry's house. I'll leave when he tells me to," Ginny fired back.

"You sound like a first year."

Ginny imeadiately went red. "That's rich coming from-"

"Why haven't you packed yet?" Harry demanded, interrupting her.

"Mum and I were wondering the same thing, which is why he's sitting over there now acting like we've just told him that Umbridge is going to be his new roommate," Ginny muttered.

"Because I'm not going anywhere," Ron said, shortly, glaring at his sister.

"Like hell you're not," Harry said with a note of finality.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all looked at him, startled. "What?" asked Ron.

"Get your stuff and put it in your trunk. You're leaving tomorrow," Harry told him.

Hermione, as if sensing the mounting tension in the room, slowly closed her book and said to Ginny, "Come on. Your mum could probably use some help with dinner."

_What is it with everyone's excuse either being cooking or cleaning_, Harry thought, wryly as the two girls quickly headed out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Ron didn't budge from his position on the bed, but Harry could tell that he was remaining there with great difficulty.

"Don't start ordering me around. I know it's 'your house' and everything now-" Ron started, but Harry interrupted again.

"Yes, and it's also _my_ decision whether or not _I_ go back to school," he said.

"Yeah, and it's mine whether or not I go either."

"No, it isn't. You're not going because I'm not. I never should have agreed when you and Hermione said that you would follow me. I guess I was too happy at the time to really think about it. But, I can't ask that you or Hermione put your life and your dreams aside for me."

"It's not about you-"

Harry scowled. "I'm not stupid, Ron."

Ron scowled back just as darkly and didn't say anything right away. He got up off the bed and moved closer to Harry.

"You need me," he said, flatly. "I'm not going to leave you out there to fight who knows what and to face him alone."

Harry knew by "him" that he meant Voldemort.

"And," Ron continued, "you have a lot of nerve coming in here telling me that I can't go with you after the fuss you made about Remus trying to talk you into going back to Hogwarts."

"That's not the point."

"What a load of bollocks!" Ron bellowed. "It is so the point! You're trying to do exactly what everyone's been doing to you! But, since it's me you're trying to convince, it's okay!"

"Ron, you bloody idiot!" Harry yelled back, stamping his foot. Ron raised his eyebrows. "I don't want you going because I don't want you to die!"

Ron blinked. "Because I'm not good enough, is that it?"

"If you say that again, I swear I'll hit you. It has nothing to do with whether or not you're good enough or smart enough. I'm not going to be responsible for the fact that you only had a year left and you blew it because of me! You still want to be an Auror, don't you?"

Ron looked away. "Yes," he said through clenched teeth.

"Right. And how the hell do you expect to go into Auror training if you drop out of school?"

Ron shrugged. "When we defeat Voldemort, it won't matter. They'll let us both in because we would have saved everyone."

"No," Harry shook his head. "That's a long shot and you know it. You have ambitions, Ron. You want to be an Auror. You want to play Quidditch. You're my best mate, and I don't want to be the reason that you left it all behind."

"We're in the middle of a war, Harry! That stuff doesn't matter anymore!"

"It matters to _me_! Because I want to do all those things, and I can't! I want to go back to school, Ron. I want to go back and act like the Wizarding world would be fine without me. I wish I could just say 'The hell with the prophecy, it's a load of crap', but I can't. But you _can_ do all those things, Ron. You can graduate, you can play Quidditch, you can go on to be an Auror, like we said we wanted to. But I can't."

Ron was silent for a while. He sighed heavily, and then looked at Harry again. "So, what you're saying is, you want me to go back to school because you can't. You want me to do all the things that you can't. You don't want me there with you, risking my life. You'd rather me be scared out of my mind that you're lying dead somewhere, while I'm off having the time of my life flying round the Quidditch pitch, is that right?"

"Er... well, I wouldn't put it _that_ way..."

Ron snorted.

"It's nice to know that you'd be worried about me," Harry muttered. "Um... thanks."

Ron scuffed the floor with the toe of his trainers. "Yeah, well..."

"Hermione's going back. I'm not mad at her for it. Don't you want to spend as much time with her as you can? You already wasted so much of it being an ass."

Ron looked at Harry with an expression that said he didn't know whether to laugh or be angry. "Of course I want to be with Hermione," he said.

"Then go back to school, Ron. I already made it plain to McGonnagal that I expect the two of you to be there whenever I do need you."

Ron laughed. "You told McGonnagal that?"

Harry laughed, too. "Yeah. I was having a really brave moment, I guess. So, you'll still be helping me when I need you. But, you'll still be able to finish school at the same time. Plus, you guys will have the library, and the Restricted Section. You'll be helping me from Hogwarts, too, when you can't be with me. And I want to try and make it so you can spend as much time here on weekends and stuff as you can."

Ron still looked dubious. "I don't like that I'm... that I'm letting you off alone. I don't like it."

Harry's brow furrowed in sudden understanding. "What, do you...? Ron, I won't think you've _abandoned_ me or anything." Then he laughed. "Ron, you're such an idiot sometimes. Come on! You're my best friend!"

"I did it once," Ron muttered. "I didn't believe you when you said you didn't put your name in the Goblet of Fire. I left, and you had to worry about the First Task and face a dragon alone. Because I was too stupid and angry and jealous. Hmph... some best friend."

Harry didn't know what to say. "Ron... that was three years ago. We were fourteen."

"I'm not going to do that again," Ron said, sternly.

"This isn't the same thing, do you understand?"

"No," Ron said, honestly. "But... dammit it all, anyway... you're probably right." He sighed, running a hand through his red hair. "And-and if you want me to go, then I will. For you," he added, firmly.

Harry nodded, showing that he understood what Ron was trying to say.

"On the condition that during the final battle between you and Voldemort, whenever and wherever it is, that I'm there with you," Ron continued.

Harry sighed. "Ron-"

"Take it or leave it."

Harry tried to glare but was unsuccessful. For everything that Ron was - stubborn, hard-headed, and hot-tempered - he was also a very good chess player. Harry had let him back him into a corner, and whatever way he turned, Ron had checkmate. But the truth was, he was glad that Ron had offered to be there at the end. He may not have wanted them dropping out of school, but he couldn't face the end without his two best friends.

"Fine," Harry agreed.

"Hermione, too."

"Yes, Hermione, too. And Remus and Moody and whoever else wants to help, because I'm sure we'll all need it."

"Good," Ron said, and flopped back down onto his bed. "Bloody hell, I guess I should start packing."

Harry grinned. "Ask Tonks. She's actually pretty good at it when you're in a hurry."

Ron gave him an odd look.

"I guess I should be like everyone else and see if your mum needs help," Harry said after a time. "And by the way, I already knew that you were going to go back to Hogwarts."

"Oh, yeah? How's that?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "McGonnagal. She apparently has some magic list. Only my name disappeared. So, you were going to go all along, you just didn't know it yet."

Ron scowled. "Yeah, well... she doesn't know everything." But a blush was already creeping to his ears.

* * *

Ron had indeed enlisted the help of Tonks' packing skills, and the next morning he, Hermione, and Ginny left for Kings Cross Station. Harry could tell Mrs. Weasley was dying to try one last time to get Harry to come along as well, but with stern looks from both Remus and Mr. Weasley, she held her tongue and instead snapped at Ron to hurry up. 

The two boys had said their goodbyes that morning. Hermione hugged him on her way out the door, telling him to be safe and not to try anything stupid while they were gone. "Please, whatever you do, Harry, don't face him alone," she had said, squeezing him tightly.

Harry couldn't make any promises, but he told her that he would to make her feel better. Next was an awkward farewell from Ginny, and then she, Ron, Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley headed out the door to catch the Knight Bus. Harry was left with Remus, an empty room, and an equally empty feeling house.

"How's the cleaning coming?" Harry asked the werewolf later.

"Well, we had to put it on hold for a while of course, after some events from last year, and the more, er, recent and obvious one. But, the third floor is pretty much done. There's still the attic... I think there's an extra room up there as well," Remus said.

"Hmm. Can I go check it out?" Harry asked.

"Er... I don't know whether that would be advisable. I have no idea what Sirius' parents could have put up there."

"Kreacher used to climb up there all the time and get into the air vent."

"It's up to you, but make sure you have your wand."

Harry decided to put his exploring off till later. Besides, he knew Ron would be furious if he found out that Harry had gone up to the attic without him. Especially if he found out he'd done it right after Ron left for Hogwarts.

"Maybe you're right," he said to Remus. He caught a glance at that morning's Daily Prophet. "Anything new?" he asked, indicating it.

Remus shook his head. "Not really."

Harry bit his lip. "Do you think I should report my, er... sighting?"

"Of Snape and Voldemort?"

Harry nodded.

"I think it would cause more harm than good, Harry, to be honest. They've already reported that grave digger's death and contributed it to..." Remus stopped at the look on Harry's face. "That wasn't your fault."

"Sure," muttered Harry. "Not my fault at all. Except that Voldemort never would have shown up there if I hadn't been there as well."

"If you blame yourself every time Voldemort kills someone in your vicinity, you're going to go mad."

"Maybe." He picked up the Prophet and started flipping through it. "You know," he said, suddenly, "after Dumbledore's death, they were coming out with loads of things about Snape. His family, his confession, what he looks like, all that... There's been loads of talk about Snape and how they're looking for him and everything. But, I haven't heard or seen anything about Draco."

"I noticed that as well," Remus agreed. "You're wondering why?"

"Well, yeah. I mean... he joined the Death Eaters. He was the one assigned to kill Dumbledore in the first place. He and Snape ran off together."

Remus' brow furrowed, as if trying to think of a way to explain something properly. "I... have to be honest with you, Harry. If Snape rejoined Voldemort imeadiately after leaving Hogwarts that night, then it's very likely that Draco is dead."

Harry's eyes snapped up from reading an article and focused intently on Remus. "What? But... it hasn't been reported or anything. I mean, they would have found his body."

"We've been checking the papers... Wizarding and Muggle both... for any suspicious information. Er... the Ministry isn't _exactly_ holding Draco responsible for his actions."

"What?" Harry said, blankly.

Remus sighed. "They're blaming it on the pressure of his family. What with his father... well, you already know all about that. Besides, there's no tangible evidence to support that Draco even tried to murder Dumbledore, especially when Snape was the one who actually did it." After a beat, he continued, "As I said, there's a very good chance that Draco is already dead. He failed Voldemort, Snape had to complete his mission. If he is still alive, and the Ministry finds him, he'll be disciplined, definitely. But, unfortunately, the Malfoy name is still held in high regard by some, even if Lucius' is mud."

To say that Harry was infuriated would be an understatement. "That's bollocks," he said, darkly. Remus had to take the paper out of his hands before he ripped it.

"I know you're angry, Harry, and you have every reason to be," he told him, setting the Prophet aside. "But there's no good dwelling on it."

Harry knew he was right, but it still made him want to blow up the first thing that he saw. _Stupid, bloody Ministry,_ he seethed. _Old Wizarding family nonsense. What the hell are they playing at?_

He went to bed that night angry and hungry, because he had been too intent on learning more spells that he had forgotten to eat. He was already missing Ron and Hermione and resolved to write to the both of them in the next few days to tell them about the latest Ministry injustice.

Unfortunately, he never got the chance. Three days later, everything went straight to hell. Harry was rudely awakened by Mrs. Black's screams a little before five in the morning due to someone pounding incessantly on the front door. He groaned, shoved on his glasses, and sleepily made his way into the hall. Both he and Remus arrived downstairs at the same time, and as Remus went to take care of the portrait, Harry opened the door, and before he could get out, "What the bloody hell is going on?" he was roughly shoved aside by Moody, who said absolutely nothing, and just shoved something in front of his face.

"Mad-Eye, what are you doing?!" Harry exclaimed, pushing what ended up being a newspaper away.

"Read it," he growled. He hadn't even bothered to shut the door. It was raining, and the wind was blowing it into the house. Moody was dripping a puddle onto the floor.

"Moody, it's not evening dawn," Harry said, angrily, snatching the paper out of his hands. He blinked at it. "Why have you got today's Prophet? It's too early-"

"Just fucking read it, Potter! Where's Lupin?"

But Harry had stopped listening, because he had just noticed the headline on the front page.

_Dark Lord Takes Control of Azkaban, Wizarding World in Turmoil._

"What?" he said in disbelief. "What... No. That's impossible."

"Oh, it's possible. Haven't got the Dementors there anymore, do we? He's got them on his side, along with some of the giants. And that damned wolf. Happened in the middle of last night," Moody explained, gruffly, taking a swig from his hip flask.

_Voldemort took over Azkaban_, Harry thought, mind reeling. He numbly began trying to read the article. He got something about giants, like Moody had said, and that there had apparently been a riot in the prison caused by the captured Death Eaters. The prisoners had become guards and the guards had become prisoners. Voldemort, in a single night, had gained control of Wizarding Britain's most fortified structure.

"What in the blazes is going on?" Remus demanded, coming back from silencing Mrs. Black. "Mad-Eye, what are you doing here? And close that door! It's bloody cold!"

Harry mechanically handed the paper over to Remus and shut the door. Remus' reaction was exactly the same as Harry's.

"By Merlin," he gasped. "Is this true, Alastor?"

"Every damned word. It's happened. He's made his first move, and now he's got control of the prison. The Wizarding world's in turmoil, alright. Scrimgeour's... well, I won't be surprised if this makes him go off his rocket." He swore loudly. "That place was the most well guarded stronghold in Britain! And I'm not just talking about man power here, I mean spells. No one can figure out how he did it. Of course, he has that traitorous bastard on his side now."

"Why? Why does he need Azkaban?" Harry asked, finding his voice.

"Why wouldn't he? Think, Potter. Didn't I just say it was the strongest hold that we had strategically? If he control's Azkaban, he controls the people we put in there - guards and criminals both. He's got a place to put his own prisoners now. A place to meet, and plan. A place we can't get to. He'll have strengthened the wards around that place ten fold, and with Dark Magic. This is a major blow. A _major blow_."

"Can-can we recover? I mean... the Wizarding world as a whole?" Harry asked. "I don't... what does this mean? What's going to happen?" His mind was a whirlwind of confused questions. He kept repeating over and over again in his head, _It's a dream. It's all just a dream..._

"A lot is going to happen, Harry," Remus said, quietly, exchanging a knowing look with Moody. "Quite a lot. And I doubt that any one of us is going to like it."

"What do you mean?"

Remus opened his mouth to explain when he turned the page, and imeadiately shut it again.

"Oh, God, what else? Did someone die?" Harry asked, coming toward him.

"Yes," Remus stated.

Harry blinked at his openness. "Who?"

The werewolf looked back up at both he and Moody, evident surprise and confusion written on his face. "Narcissa Malfoy."

* * *

_A/N: Obex is the Latin word for "barrier"; Obduco is the Latin word for "cover" or "lead against". So, my very loose and bad translation would be "to cover in a barrier"._


	11. Of Princes and Dark Lords

_Finally, an update. Figures it would come right after "Deathly Hallows" came out. You don't have to tell me how ridiculously long it's been, and I totally and sincerely apologize. Real life got about as real as it could get and zapped me of any creativity whatsoever. It's taken me since February to write this chapter, which I ended up rewriting because I wrote it the first time so I could actually give you an update. But, on the bright side, this is when things finally come together, and in the next few chapters I am going to be writing things that I've been planning on writing in this story for a long time._

_On another note: I HAVE NOT READ DEATHLY HALLOWS!!!! Please, PLEASE, do not spoil it for me with reviews like, "Wow, that didn't happen in the book" or "Yeah, Wormtail blah blah blah" or whatever. Just don't even MENTION "Deathly Hallows". I actually want to finish this story without being influenced by the real thing, so I am trying not to read it. Please respect that, and don't be mean or rude by spoiling the last book for me, or I REALLY won't be updating. On with the show..._

Chapter Eight

_Of Princes and Dark Lords_

**Two Months Ago**

Not an hour after he had sent Draco and Wormtail into the hidden compartment in the kitchen, the mark on Severus Snape's arm burned red hot. Snape sighed. He'd been expecting this. The Dark Lord had made a show in front of the others; now he wanted to speak to him alone. _And probably do a lot more than speak_, Snape thought, cynically, because one did not go before the Dark Lord without expecting a _Crucio_ or two. Or three. He had grown accustomed to it. The thirteen years that the Dark Lord had been absent hadn't made him what the Muggles called "rusty". He'd served him for almost four years before Lily Potter had foolishly thrown herself in front of her son, thus beginning the Boy Who Lived phenomenons. He knew enough, and had endured enough, to know what was in store for him when Dumbledore had told him to go back to the Dark Lord at the end of Potter's fourth year.

_Potter_, Snape thought, venomously, as he removed his Death Eater mask from it's hiding place. _Stupid, bloody, fucking Potter. _How he loathed him. He would never forget the first time Lily and James' son strode through the Entrance Hall doors that first year. Snape could have sworn he was seeing James Potter's ghost. Only his eyes were different... they were green. Emerald green. Green like hers.

Pushing those thoughts aside - because they only made him want to hex someone - he ran through his Occlumency training, centering himself, returning himself to his usual calm demeanor.

It was time.

He reinitiated the barrier spells around his home as well as the kitchen (because with Wormtail around he could never afford to take any chances), placed the mask over his face, and stalked out into the cold, dark night.

Once he was a safe distance away, he took one last calming breath and touched the mark on his arm. Imeadiately, he was whisked away to hell only knew where. If there was one thing that Snape never got used to over the years, it was blind Apparition. He reappeared in a graveyard.

No. Not _a_ graveyard. _The_ graveyard. The one where the Dark Lord had made his reappearance two years ago.

A four-letter word imeadiately popped into his mind, but he had the sense not to utter it allowed, which happened to be a Very Good Thing, as not three feet away stood Voldemort himself.

Snape knelt at once, his knees hitting the hard cold ground, and bent his head low, eyes looking upward, in the formal greeting. "I am here, as you command, My Lord."

Voldemort said nothing and allowed him to stay knelt for some time. A wave of panic almost swept through Snape, but he remained calm, his Occulemency training in place. And he waited.

And waited.

After what felt like an eternity, Voldemort spoke.

"Do you think me a fool, Severus?"

Snape chose his next words very, very carefully. "Only if I had a death wish, My Lord."

"Is that so? Then perhaps you can tell me why you went against my wishes. Because I know that _you_ are no fool, Severus." Voldemort took a few steps closer to the still kneeling Snape. "You know the real reason I set that task for the Malfoy boy."

Snape, of course, knew that all too well. He knew that Draco had been marked for death almost the instant that Narcissa had walked through his door.

"It was to have been Lucius' punishment. Draco was supposed to die," Voldemort hissed.

"And he did," Snape replied.

"He was not supposed to die by your hand."

Snape's mind began to work very quickly. "I had thought you would be pleased, My Lord, and it seemed as though you were earlier."

Voldemort remained silent for a time.

"Rise, Severus," he said finally, and began to walk past him. Snape did so, and fell into step behind the Dark Lord. It seemed at first that they were heading no place in particular, until the silhoutte of a large mansion came into view.

"Draco Malfoy is hardly the only reason I summoned you," Voldemort stated. "Do you wish to know why you are here?"

Snape didn't even bother lying. "Yes, My Lord."

"Although I am... ecstatic... about the demise of that Muggle-loving fool, I am most concerned with the way you handled the boy."

Snape cocked his head to one side. "Potter?"

Voldemort said nothing.

"You merely heard a tale told by half-witted idiots, My Lord."

"It is not wise to make such comments about your brothers in arms, Severus. Although, they do not possess the same cunning as yourself."

"I am blessed with the attributes of your House, My Lord."

"All flattery aside," Voldemort hissed, suddenly, turning to face Snape, "and even though your actions were reported to me by... half-witted idiots... The boy is still alive."

Snape faltered. "My Lord... it was your wish that he be allowed to live, for you to-"

"And unwounded," Voldemort added.

Snape took a breath. "Again, My Lord, it was your wish that he not be touched. Alecto and Amycus also Disapparated before I was through with the boy."

Voldemort said nothing. "Yes. It was my wish that he remained alive. I wonder, however, about _your_ wishes."

Snape raised an eyebrow, even though he knew he couldn't be seen under his mask. "My wishes, My Lord?"

"As I said, you are quite cunning. And as you said, you are blessed with the attributes of my ancestor's house."

"And this... concerns you?"

Snape realized a second too late that that may have been the wrong choice of words. Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Concerned? By you? You flatter yourself to think that your powers are of any worth compared to mine?"

Snape imeadiately dropped to his knees once more. "Forgive me, My Lord. I misspoke."

Unfortunately, his apology came too late, and he felt the Cruciatus tear through his body, attacking his muscles, making him fall to the ground. He bit his lip against the pain, making it bleed. He would not cry out. He would not cry out. He would not cry out...

After what felt like hours, although it was probably only about thirty seconds, the pain ceased, and Snape was left panting at Voldemort's feet.

"Apology accepted. Now get up," the Dark Lord ordered.

Snape steeled himself, and then shakily got to his feet.

"Open your mind to me, Severus. I want to see it. I want to see how you killed him. I want to see the boy," Voldemort hissed.

Snape knew this would be coming and had prepared for it. "As you wish, My Lord." He lowered his defenses ever so slightly, but not enough so that the Dark Lord would perceive it. Snape allowed him to see Dumbledore, old and frail looking, leaning against the wall of the astronomy tower. He let him see Dumbledore plead with Snape, right before he used the_ Avada Kedavra_, killing him and sending him over the edge of the Tower. He let the Dark Lord witness his verbal spar with Potter, and the so-called battle afterward, which left Potter wandless and bloodied. He finished with the attack from the Hippogriff, and then the Dark Lord ended the connection.

"So you did wound him," was all Voldemort said.

Snape nodded. "He called me a coward."

"That must have upset you," Voldemort replied in a bored sort of way.

"You know my feelings toward the boy."

"Ooooh yes," Voldemort nodded. "You hate him almost as much as I do. Sins of the father..."

Snape felt his temper start to rise.

"Sometimes it amuses me, Severus, how much anger and hatred you still carry for a man long dead. Someone I took great pleasure in killing, I'll have you know."

"Have I offered you my thanks, recently, for that?" Snape asked.

Voldemort allowed a small, contemptuous laugh. "His death served both our purposes, my friend." He began walking again, and Snape assumed that he was to follow. They walked in silence for the half hour or so that it took to reach the mansion, which Snape knew from Dumbledore was in fact the Riddle House.

"You recognize it," Voldemort said, suddenly. "I assume Dumbledore told you where it was."

Snape didn't even have to answer.

"It serves its purpose," Voldemort admitted. "It was most helpful in concealing the whereabouts of Wormtail and myself when he brought me back from Albania." He turned back toward Snape, and added, "You have proven your worth." He held out his hand, and in a blaze of fire, a list appeared there. Handing it to Snape, he instructed, "Return to your home, and begin preparing these."

Snape bowed. "It will be done, My Lord."

"I will give you far more... entertaining... tasks soon, Severus."

Snape bowed again. "Thank you, My Lord."

Voldemort waved his hand, signaling to Snape that he should go. With one final bow, Snape Disapparated back to the river in front of the village of Mill houses. It was all he could do not to vomit.

Something was wrong. He could feel it. His suspicions had started last summer when Narcissa Malfoy had unexpectedly shown up on his front door, and had increased when he realized that Bellatrix had been correct in assuming that Snape knew nothing of this plan to use Draco to kill Albus Dumbledore. He had been able to use Legilimency and quick thinking, however, to turn the tide in his favor. But then there had been the Unbreakable Vow. Snape was concerned, at first, that Narcissa had been sent by the Dark Lord all along to force Snape into making a mistake, and into making the Vow and therefore going against the Dark Lord's plan. But, no - more probing into Narcissa's mind showed that she had come there of her own volition. She was out of her mind with grief over Lucius being in Azkaban and concern for her teenage son.

After killing Dumbledore, Snape had thought that whatever suspicions the Dark Lord may have had would have been dismissed. That didn't seem to be the case, however. And giving him menial tasks such as concocting potions as he had done in his very early Death Eater days did nothing to ease his concerns.

_Has it all been for nothing?_ he thought as he walked toward his front door. He threw it open and slammed it shut again. He couldn't start thinking like that. He had to proceed with the plan. Dumbledore was dead. Draco was just as good as dead. And Potter... Potter's life was just beginning.

------------------------

The next month passed without much incident. To someone other than Snape, that would be a good thing.

The night after Dumbledore's death, Snape had sent Wormtail and Draco off to Leavesden with explicit instructions to not Apparate, use the Knight Bus, or use any kind of magic. They were to travel at night, and then owl him - in code - immediately when they arrived at their destination. Wormtail had been instructed to remain there as well, and Snape had told the Dark Lord and any Death Eater who asked that he was dead, and Snape had very much enjoyed doing it. A week later, he had received the owl from Draco's new guardian informing him that they had arrived. Snape's response was short and to the point: _Good. No other contact._ And so it had remained. The plan was that he would write once a month to make sure all was still well, and Draco was still safe. A few days after the owl was received, however, his wrist where the Vow had bonded him and Narcissa burned slightly, only for a second. And then it stopped. Snape had scowled at it, and then waited to see if it would continue. After a few minutes, he brushed it off as nothing - Draco probably hurt himself by accident somehow - and went back to work. It never happened again.

The Dark Lord had Snape's potions ingredients sent to him, since it was perfectly obvious that Snape couldn't go off to Diagon or Knockturn Alley to get them for himself. Not with every Auror in the country out looking for him. And so, he had remained cooped up in his father's house, brewing all sorts of vile potions for the Dark Lord, and trying to sort out just exactly what the hell he was supposed to do now. The most unpleasant task, which unfortunately was also the first, was to get through to Potter. The boy had never been any good at Occulmency, which had served the Dark Lord in the past, and served Snape now. He had never attempted to penetrate someone's mind through dreams. However, he was fairly confident that he could accomplish it. The first two times, he failed. He managed to see what Potter was dreaming, but could never manipulate and shape those dreams into what he desired. The third time, however, he struck gold. He managed to snag hold of a memory, and using his skills, manipulated that memory, twisted it, into a dream that hopefully Potter would understand. The memory in question was of Potter and Dumbledore in a cave. They were on a little stone island in the middle of a large lake. Potter had been feeding Dumbledore some kind of potion, clearly against his better judgment. Snape recognized the scene almost imeadiately, and unfortunately knew very well the contents of that potion. It wasn't hard for him to place Potter as the observer, and insert himself in Potter's place. Something must have triggered Potter's unconscious mind, however, for he woke up almost imeadiately after. Snape knew that hadn't been enough. He would have to try again later. Subtlety was never one of his strong suits, but he knew better than anyone how stubborn Potter could be. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure this method was even going to work. Knowing Potter, he would probably just think he ate something that didn't agree with him, and it was giving him odd dreams.

July 30th rolled around, and warning bells had started going off in Snape's head. He had completed two potions for the Dark Lord already. Two more were in their final stages. Yet, the Dark Lord had not checked on his progress. Furthermore, he hadn't summoned him, or even informed him of his plans for Potter's upcoming birthday - and he knew that the Dark Lord was planning _something_. He wouldn't miss an opportunity to kill Potter, especially when he could now do so on the (no longer) sacred ground of the Dursleys'.

To his surprise, the Dark Lord did indeed summon him around eleven o'clock that day. Upon arriving, Snape was told that he was not to be present when he and a few of the other Death Eaters ambushed Potter at midnight.

"I have no doubt that Potter will not be alone," the Dark Lord explained. "The Auror's will be there for his protection. Even they aren't that stupid to let him out alone on the eve of him turning seventeen. No... there will be another time, Severus. I'm sure he'll try to visit his parents. I will need you then."

Severus didn't like that. He didn't like that _at all_. Not only was he being forced to twiddle his thumbs for Merlin only knew how long, but now he was going to have to go to Godric's Hollow, which was a place that he had intended to never visit again.

This was definitely not working out according to plan.

----------------------

It was a week after Potter's birthday when Snape's mark burned once more. He had been informed by one of the Carrows that Potter had apparently had no Auror escort on Privet Drive, and had only been accompanied by Granger and Weasley. It was all Snape could do to keep the shock - and anger - out of his eyes and voice. _Stupid, arrogant boy_, he thought, seething.

"He seemed to be very interested in finding you, Severus," Amycus had told him, a greedy look on his face.

"I can only imagine," was Snape's only reply

Amycus then continued his tale, saying that eventually the Order showed up, and Potter, Granger, and Weasley were able to escape. An Order member - Richard Hapkirk, Mafalda Hapkirk's nephew - had been the only casualty. Snape had only met him once, last year. He had been a new recruit of Kingsly Shacklebolt, fresh out of Auror training.

Now, the Dark Lord was calling him again, which meant that Potter was on the move once more - this time to Godric's Hollow, his old home and the burial place of his parents. It was a chilly Sunday afternoon when he Apparated with some twelve other Death Eaters into the Dark Lord's presence. Again, Snape found himself in a graveyard. It was pouring rain; Severus' and the others' robes were already soaked through.

"I sense him," was all that the Dark Lord said. "He's already been to the house. Alecto tells me that it collapsed shortly after he came out of it. His friends are with him again." His red eyes had then turned to Snape. "Is he always this careless?"

Snape - although masked - still rolled his eyes. "Unbelievably, My Lord."

The Dark Lord motioned for them to stand, and then his eyes went to the old gravedigger that was milling about removing the dead flowers from the tombstones. He was blissfully unaware of their presence.

"I think we ought to show him what happens to little boys who don't learn from their mistakes," the Dark Lord hissed.

Snape's stomach clenched.

-----------------------

The gravedigger's death was quick and painless, the only upside to the _Avada Kedavra_. The Dark Lord then levitated him and strung him along behind like some kind of demented marionette doll as they made their way to Potter, Granger, and Weasley.

"You will speak to him first, Severus," he hissed in Snape's ear. "I want to make him unbalanced. If what you told me is true, his anger and desire for revenge will make him clumsy."

"As you wish, My Lord."

Snape just hoped to whoever was listening that the boy would use some common sense and not try to attack him. He seriously doubted that Potter had listened to a thing Snape had told him during their so-called battle after Dumbledore's death.

They were fast approaching the three teenagers. Potter had just gotten up off the muddy ground - he had been kneeling in front of a statue of an angel - and Weasley and Granger were coming over to him. The Dark Lord nodded to him, and Snape cast the _Muffliato_ charm to mask their approach. They watched as Granger turned the umbrella she had been holding into a twig and toss it on the ground. They were almost on top of them now.

"Come on," Granger was saying, "I think it's just the calm before another storm hits. We should get going. Remus-"

Snape felt the Dark Lord's gaze on him, and knew it was time. _Let the game begin_, he thought, wryly.

"Well, well, well," he said very calmly, very slowly. "Caught unawares yet again, Potter? Will you never learn?"

Potter visibly stiffened. All three of them still had their backs to Snape and the others. He could see Granger grip Potter's hand, and whisper something to him. Snape couldn't make out what it was. They still hadn't turned around.

"Although, I can't say I'm surprised. You always were rather slow, weren't you, Potter?" Snape continued, eyes narrowing. He knew it would only take a little goading to get Potter riled.

As if on cue, Potter, Granger, and Weasley finally turned to face the threat that had befallen them.

Potter's eyes were filled with hate, although since Snape and the others were still masked, he wasn't quite sure where to direct his glare. "I was wondering when you were going to show yourself," he yelled. "I'm surprised you..."

Potter's smug attitude vanished as he realized just what, exactly, he had gotten himself and his friends into.

"Oh, fuck," Weasley blurted, his freckled face going pale.

Snape had to resist the urge to snort. He could see Potter eyeing the dead gravedigger. _Good_, he thought, venomously. _Take a look, Potter. Take a good look. You'll probably be seeing more._

Not being able to resist, Snape turned to Potter's redheaded companion, and said in the way of greeting: "Mr. Weasley, as eloquent as always. Yes, it seems your heroic best friend has lead you to certain doom once again. Wouldn't you say so, My Lord?"

Beside him, he could hear the Dark Lord laugh softly. "You were quite right, Severus. The boy does have the tendency to be a bit... stupid." With a flick of his wand, the Dark Lord sent the body of the gravedigger flying forward. It landed directly in front of Potter's feet. The Death Eaters around him laughed as Potter stared at the dead body. Snape could see both anger and guilt in Potter's eyes. _Still wearing your heart on your sleeve, I see..._ Snape thought.

"Let go of me, Hermione," he growled, trying to tug himself away from Granger's grip.

Granger shook her head violently, her mass of brown hair whipping around her face. "No. Hang on to me. We need to get away."

"Like hell," Potter snapped at her.

_At least Granger has some sense_. Part of Snape had hoped she would accompany Potter. She seemed to be his only source of reason. Weasley, for his part, was just standing there staring like a slack-jawed idiot.

As if echoing Snape's thoughts, the Dark Lord said, "I think you've made him angry, Severus. You've been decidedly foolish lately, boy. This is the second time we've faced each other because your Gryffindor idiocy has allowed you to aimlessly wander about. I keep telling you, Harry, that you ought to listen to your Mudblood."

The insult bounced off Granger as if she had her own personal shielding charm.

"You'll find, My Lord, that Potter rarely listens to anyone," Snape sneered.

"Come to visit your parents' graves, I see. Seeking answers amongst the dead? What an ingenious twist of fate that you should die on top of their burial markers." The Dark Lord smiled at the thought.

Upon hearing those words, Snape risked a glance at the statue behind Potter. He could barely make out the engraved names, but could see part of "daughter, wife, sister and friend" that had to be for Lily Potter. He quickly avoided his gaze.

Weasley sprang into action at that point, snarling: "Who said anything about Harry dying?" He and Granger moved in closer to Potter, entrenching him.

Trying to protect him.

Snape knew right away that it was a foolish endeavor.

The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters laughed. "How amusing. Look... look how they move to protect him. Are they your servants now, Harry?"

Snape rolled his eyes. _I'm sure he would love that_, he thought, and without any sarcasm whatsoever.

"He's baiting you," Granger said to Potter. "Don't listen."

_Listen to Granger, Potter._

"I'm not going to lose the two of you. This is my fight," Potter shot back.

_Oh, for God's sake!_

"No! We're in this together." Granger pulled her wand and pointed it into the crowd. "All of you, stand back!"

Snape was mildly impressed. As for the Dark Lord and the rest of them, they just laughed harder. "And what, exactly, do you plan to do, you filthy Muggle spawn?" the Dark Lord spat at her. "Even you are smart enough to know you cannot possibly defeat me."

Snape could see Weasley shaking his head at Granger, as if advising her to back off.

The Dark Lord began to look at Potter very carefully, as if studying him. "You have to know you cannot hope to win, Harry. Especially against Severus. He's my most trusted servant now, you know. And, of course, you know it was he who alerted me to the prophecy."

Snape's grip on his wand tightened, and Potter's furious glare intensified. _So_, Snape thought. _It's true then. He does know._ This was going to make things much harder.

"Should I dispose of him for you, My Lord?" he asked, trying to sound bored with the whole ordeal. Potter, it seemed, had already had enough.

"Enough of this, you fucking coward!" he bellowed. "Where are you? You can't even show your face to me, can you? Pathetic."

Everything suddenly got very, very quiet. It felt like a bucket of ice had been dropped into Snape's stomach. _Coward_, his mind echoed. _Coward coward coward coward..._

_DON'T call me COWARD!_

"You were quite right, Severus," the Dark Lord said, bringing Snape back to the present. "He cares nothing about me. Show yourself."

Snape could feel his Death Eater's mask peeling away, as though melting. He bore his eyes into Potter's. He entertained the notion that if he stared hard enough, he could make the boy burst into flames.

"I thought we discussed you using that word, Potter," he whispered, dangerously.

Potter only grew louder. "I thought you would have realized that I don't care!" He pushed his way past Granger and Weasley. "Are you going to dock points? Give me detention? Five hundred billion points from Gryffindor or something?"

Snape couldn't believe it. Here Potter was, face to face with not only the Dark Lord, but a dozen Death Eaters, and he was still acting like cocky little shit.

"Harry Potter, get back here!" Granger demanded. "How dare you be so stupid-"

"Be quiet, Hermione," Potter yelled, waving her off.

"No, I will not! You are letting your feelings blind you," the girl continued, trying to reason with her friend.

"Listen to Miss Granger, Potter," Snape said. "You do not want to fight me."

Potter's eyes burned with a fury that almost matched Snape's own. "Yes, I do."

Snape had absolutely no doubt that he was dead serious. Unfortunately, if he continued to carry on like this, Snape also had absolutely no doubt that Potter would also be just plain dead. Which was something Snape could not allow... _Also unfortunately_, he mused, making sure to avoid the Dark Lord's eye.

Potter had his wand out, and reflexively, Snape pulled his out of his robes as well. Beside him, the Dark Lord had started clapping.

"How entertaining! Please continue."

The rest of the Death Eaters started jeering, forming a circle around Potter and Snape. This was going too far. Something needed to be done.

Now.

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter," Snape taunted. "You've learned nothing since our last encounter. I will block you with astounding ease."

"I'm not afraid of you," Potter growled at him.

Snape allowed himself a small smile. "Yes. You are."

As he knew it would, this just seemed to infuriate Potter even more. Snape readied his Legilimency skills and sought out the eyes of his target. Potter, thinking it was him, averted his gaze. But the person that Snape was aiming for did not. Granger stared boldly into Snape's face, and he forced an image into her mind.

"...Obduco_!" a younger Snape yelled. James Potter flew backward and hit the cupboard behind him, sending tea cups crashing to the floor..._

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Potter make a move with his wand, and quickly blocked the Slicing Hex that he had thrown.

"Don't look at him, Hermione!" he heard Potter yell. This made Granger gasp audibly, and raise her own wand.

_Dammit to hell!_ Snape thought angrily. _Shut up and get out of the way, you stupid fool! _He nonverbally sent a spell at Potter that took the wind right out of him and sent him crashing into the stone angel behind him. Snape allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction as Weasley yelled out Potter's name and went to help him up.

The Death Eaters laughed and applauded. "Something more creative this time, don't you think, Severus?" the Dark Lord encouraged him.

Snape nodded, knowing that he couldn't stall for much longer. Potter was coughing and sputtering, trying to regain his footing. Snape raised his wand as if preparing to hex the hell out of Potter, but again sought out Granger's eyes.

_A seventeen-year-old Snape stood in front of James Potter and Sirius Black in the empty Transfiguration classroom. _

"_I told you," Snape snarled, "bugger OFF!"_

_He took out his wand, swung his arm in an arc, brought it back down, and yelled, "_Obex Obduco_!"_

_James flew backward the entire length of the classroom and crashed into the cupboard behind..._

"Leave her alone, you son of a-" Snape heard Potter yell, but he never got to finish as Granger jumped in front of him, and in perfect imitation of Snape's memory, brought her wand arm around in an arc. As it returned level to the ground, she shouted, "_Obex Obduco!"_

Snape felt like something very large and very heavy was flying toward him, and then the next thing he knew, he, the Dark Lord, and all the Death Eaters were lying face up about ten feet away from their last position. Snape thought he heard a few of them actually crashing into some of the other statues. By the time they had gotten to their feet, Potter, Weasley, and Granger were gone.

Snape lay there immobile for a few more seconds. He was not a fan of Granger by any means. She was annoying and a know-it-all, which was something that he reminded her of any chance he got. He had learned a long time ago that being smart and having your nose in a book only got you more trouble than praise. But, she was far from stupid, and had more common sense than Weasley and Potter put together. Potter listened to her, except when he was being totally and completely irrational. Which, of course, was any time that he was around Snape. A very, very small part of Snape understood that; the boy had seen him kill Dumbledore. If this wasn't the first time Potter refused to see beyond his own prejudices, Snape may have been a little more lenient. As it was, six years of resentment and hostility - on both their parts - would make any kind of interaction with Potter almost impossible at this point.

But Hermione Granger might very well be the key.

The Dark Lord had gotten to his feet, as well as the rest of the Death Eaters. Whether out of temper or boredom - Snape was beginning to not be able to tell - the Dark Lord sent a few of them crashing backward into the statues again.

Walking over to Snape, he ordered, "Up, Severus," before continuing on toward the Potters' graves.

Snape made himself get to his feet, and then followed.

The Dark Lord had his back to him, and was standing in front of the angel statue that looked down upon the ground under which James and Lily Potter were burried.

"Interesting that she used that spell," he said. "I wonder where she learned it."

Coming up beside him, Snape answered, "I cannot hope to guess, My Lord. However, she is very intelligent for a Mudblood." As an afterthought, he added, "And I have already told you that Potter found my book."

"Ah, yes," the Dark Lord said. "Your book."

Snape followed his gaze. He was regarding the burial markers in what Snape considered to be a much too interested fashion.

"Return to your home, my friend, and continue working on the potions," the Dark Lord said, suddenly. "I have... work... to do here."

Something about the way he said that made Snape not want to know. He bowed, and said, "As you wish, My Lord."

He took a few steps back from the Potters' graves, and - without a second glance at them - Disapparated back to Spinner's End.

He thought about Granger the entire walk back to his house. If the original plan was unsuccessful, and he had to initiate what the Muggles called "Plan B", he grew more and more confident with each step that Granger may be the only way to make it happen. He had already initiated it by showing her the _Obex Obduco_, which she mastered within a matter of seconds, although Snape figured that had something to do with the Legilimency. He just hoped that Granger wouldn't be foolish enough to try and tell Potter it had been Snape who had shown it to her to begin with. He wasn't half convinced that she would even be able to understand that he was the one who had sent it to her.

He arrived back at the house, put up his usual wards, and then went down to the basement from the door in the kitchen that lead to his laboratory. He hadn't received his owl from Leavesden, and was beginning to get anxious. Potter had almost gotten himself and his friends killed yet again. And he was still down here making horrid concoctions for the Dark Lord to use on God only knew who. _Probably some five-year-old Muggleborn_.

The thought sickened him.

Suddenly very angry, he upended the cauldron he was working on and threw it across the room. This was ludicrous. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. He should be doing something, dammit. And the fact that he was suddenly becoming sentimental toward hypothetical five-year-old Muggleborns made his skin crawl. He wanted to blame Dumbledore, but found that he couldn't. Not anymore.

He returned the cauldron back to its position on the fire and prepared to _Evanesco_ the spilt potion, which was beginning to eat threw the concrete. Snape didn't have to think about what it would do to a person's insides. He had seen that first hand. And he was making more of it so he could see it again.

And for what? For Potter?

He stared down at the oozing liquid in disgust. It was yellow. It reminded him of lemon drops.

He spent the rest of the night with his head in the toilet.

---------------------

A week later, Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, and Alastor Moody would be standing in the middle of the foyer of Grimmauld Place staring in disbelief at that morning's Daily Prophet. That very same night, Severus Snape would realize everything he had done wrong just a little too late. This realization came in the form of Wormtail.

Snape was just finishing up what he supposed could be called dinner, when he heard a pecking sound coming from the side window. An owl was sitting there, with what appeared to be a newspaper in its mouth. Snape found this very odd; he had cancelled his subscription to the Daily Prophet before that night on the Astronomy Tower so that the Ministry wouldn't be able to track the owls. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was the Malfoy's owl.

He threw the window open, allowing the owl in and ripped open the newspaper. He read the headline, and nearly dropped it.

"Oh... my... God," he whispered, shocked. "What...? No. No, this... this is not possible."

Azkaban was now in the hands of the Dark Lord.

And Severus knew he was dead.

His mind was a whirl of questions. They hadn't informed him. His mark hadn't even burned. No one had told him anything. They...

They'd been keeping him busy with potions. He'd been played. He'd been horribly and mercilessly played until this moment. And he hadn't even realized it.

There was a knock on the door, and he jumped, the Prophet actually falling to the floor this time. His wards hadn't even gone off. He reached for the handle and realized that his hand was shaking. He was reminded of Draco the night of Dumbledore's death. He threw the door open, wand at the ready, and came face to face with Peter Pettigrew.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

"Wormtail? What the hell-?" Snape began, but Wormtail quickly shuffled into the house and locked the door.

"Have you seen it, Severus?" he demanded.

Snape glanced at the fallen Prophet. "Yes," he said, darkly, going over to it. Picking it back up again, he read the headline once more: _Dark Lord Takes Control of Azkaban, Wizarding World in Turmoil._

"Why are you here, Wormtail? Why aren't you with Draco?" Snape asked, scanning the article.

He was completely done for. He would have to leave imeadiately. He didn't think he could risk Apparating, but if the Dark Lord suspected him - and it was becoming painfully and frighteningly obvious that he did - he would have to use whatever means necessary to escape. He hated himself. How could he had let this happen? He had promised...

And there was still the matter of the Malfoy's owl. Why had Herpo brought him the Prophet? Could Narcissa have been trying to warn him?

It took him a moment to realize that Wormtail hadn't answered his questions. He was standing very still and being unusually quiet. "Draco, Wormtail! Why aren't you with him?"

"He's safe. I promise. I wouldn't have left him otherwise."

Snape snorted. "Safe? You call this safe?" He shook the Prophet at him and bore his gaze into Wormtail's.

He was blocked.

And the reason that Herpo brought him the Prophet became all too clear.

"You're not Wormtail," Snape said, slowly.

It had already started. The Dark Lord had Azkaban, he knew of Snape's treachery, Draco may very well be in danger or already captured. Everything, in the matter of five minutes, went straight to hell in a handbasket.

The fake Wormtail smiled slyly, before letting out a strangled cry and convulsing. Snape instinctively took a step back. The person on the floor was writhing uncontrollably, contorting and growing. His body elongated and became slimmer. The thinning, brown hair of Peter Pettigrew became longer, fuller, and lighter. Snape was looking at the transformation of someone who had taken Polyjuice Potion. He took a few more steps back and again raised his wand. He knew the person the fake Wormtail was becoming all too well.

The transformation finally stopped. Panting, the figure got to his feet. He took out what Snape thought looked like Wormtail's wand, which suddenly grew and transformed as well into a cane with a serpent's head. The owner of that cane straightened his robes, and swept his long, blond hair out of his face.

"Evening, Severus," Lucius Malfoy greeted him.


	12. Plan B

Chapter Nine

_Plan B_

There were only a few times in Snape's life that he could say he was actually totally and truly shocked. Right now was one of them.

"_Lucius_?" he whispered in disbelief. "How...?" He looked again at the abandoned Prophet. "Azkaban," he said flatly. "Of course. The captives are now the captures, I see." Even he had to admit it was a bold move on the Dark Lord's part, and an ingenious one as well. Azkaban would be key during the war, and the Dark Lord had captured it.

Wasting no time, because if they had sent Lucius, that meant the rest of them were probably on their way as well, Snape demanded: "Draco?"

Lucius gave him a half shrug, and began inspecting Snape's house.

"Don't toy with me!" Snape barked. "Where is he, Lucius?"

Lucius' grey eyes narrowed dangerously. "You, my _friend_, are in no position to be making demands, I can assure you." Then, appearing to change tactics, he answered, "He arrived at his destination with Wormtail. The little rat has been practicing Occulemency while you were at Hogwarts all year. As a... precaution, you understand? He actually had quite the knack for it, I hear. Seems to work rather well under death threats."

_That son of a bitch_, Snape thought, viciously. He had taken Draco out from right under his nose. How could he have been so stupid? In his worry over Draco, he had allowed himself to get reckless and clumsy. And Draco's safety had been key in Dumbledore's plan.

He had ruined everything.

"And... the Muggle?" Snape asked, turning his attention back to Lucius.

"Wormtail waited for him to write the letter to you, to make sure you thought Draco was safe," Lucius explained. "And then he told the boy to Apparate home, saying that you had changed the plan." He smiled coldly. "And then once Draco was gone, Wormtail disposed of the Muggle, of course."

Snape blinked, and that was the only reaction that Lucius got. "Pity," he said, although only a very small part of him meant it. There was no love lost between that particular Muggle and Severus, but - out of fear - he followed order's well enough. Snape also realized that must have been why the Vow had burned. But it had stopped when Draco arrived back at Malfoy Manor with his mother, where the boy thought he would be safe.

"Yes, such a shame, really," Lucius added. "Could have been avoided." As he strolled around the house, Snape followed from the other side of the room, never taking his eyes off him and never turning his back. "Wormtail joined Draco at Malfoy Manor soon after. Narcissa was quite surprised."

Something clicked with Snape, then. "Lucius, what's happened? What have you-?"

"Turn to page four, I believe it is, in the Prophet, won't you?" Lucius said.

Snape glared. He didn't have time for this. Snatching the Prophet up, he turned to the page as Lucius had requested.

_Narcissa Malfoy found dead; Malfoy Manor destroyed._

Snape paled. "My God, Lucius. What have you done?"

"What have _I_ done?!" Lucius yelled, stopping by the door to the kitchen. "You should be asking yourself that, Severus! You've betrayed the Dark Lord. You... _lied_ to him." Lucius shook his head in disbelief. Whether it was over Snape lying, or the fact that he had _managed_ to lie to the Dark Lord, Snape didn't know.

"Where... is... Draco?" Snape demanded through clenched teeth, and he raised his wand at Lucius for good measure. "Why didn't...?" He stopped, realizing what he was about to do. He wasn't sure if Lucius knew of the Vow.

"Why didn't your Vow bond burn?" Lucius purred. "Oh, yes... I know all about that. And so does the Dark Lord. It was a mistake to try faking Draco's death while Bellatrix was there, Severus. She told him everything."

That was unexpected. The Dark Lord had known for months of his treachery and had done _nothing_?

But Lucius was still talking: "Wormtail convinced Narcissa to free you from the Vow, now that the school year was over and Dumbledore was dead. Draco was allowed to remain with her until late last night, after the Dark Lord's successful take over of Azkaban prison. He and I then went to retrieve Draco. The Vow was released, so you had no idea just how much danger Draco, and his mother, both were in. Now she's dead, and Draco is where he belongs."

_Ah, so that was it. He had been waiting until he had taken control of Azkaban. Now he has a lovely little place to keep Draco and I._

"And then, of course, Wormtail supplied me with some hairs, and I drank the Polyjuice Potion, and came to find you," Lucius finished. "Surprise."

"Indeed," Snape said. "Although, I'm sure more for the Dark Lord than it was for me."

Lucius whipped his wand out of his cane. "You've signed your death warrant, Severus. Draco isn't dead yet, I assure you. And you'll be joining him in Azkaban soon. And then I am sure the Dark Lord will take great pleasure in killing you both. You're a _traitor_, Severus."

Snape's eyes flashed. "Funny. _I'm_ the traitor, yet you stood by and watched as your wife was _murdered_."

Lucius sent a curse at him then, and Snape managed to dodge out of the way. The force of the spell very nearly blew a whole in the wall. "You should never had made the Vow, Severus. Only fools go against the Dark Lord!" Lucius yelled, and nonverbally sent another spell.

Snape blocked it, and retaliated with a _Sectumsempra_. Lucius blocked that as well.

"I was protecting your son, which is more than anything you ever did for him!" Snape snarled. "Narcissa came to me."

"Yes, and like a sentimental fool, you obliged her," Lucius sneered. "Perhaps all those years you spent with that Mudblood-lover Dumbledore addled your brains!" He sent a Burning Hex at him, and Snape was just a little too slow. He did manage to turn to the side just in time; only his robes caught fire. He quickly put them out and then turned back to Lucius.

"If I betrayed the Dark Lord, then why is Dumbledore dead?" Snape snarled.

"Oh, trust me, that is something that he indeed would like the answer to. For some reason, he think it has little to do with the Vow."

Snape's eyes narrowed. Lucius was still by the kitchen door. He had to get out of there. He had to get to the Order. He and Dumbledore's plans had - quite literally - blown up right in Snape's face, and now both Draco, Potter, and not to mention himself, were all in very serious danger.

"You're the fool, Lucius," Snape snarled. "Do you really think that he'll keep you alive any longer than he will me? You allowed the diary to be destroyed. You lost the Prophecy. And now your wife and son both went against his orders."

"That's why Narcissa is dead, isn't it? Stupid woman."

Hate started to boil in Snape's blood. "Odd way to talk about a woman you supposedly loved. The woman who gave you a son."

Lucius snorted. "A disappointment, is more like. Just like you." He flung a Blasting Curse at him, which made the stair case and Snape's couch explode, and sent Snape falling backward. When the dust had cleared, he felt blood on his face and a throbbing in his head. Lucius was standing over him, his wand pointed straight at the place between Snape's eyes.

"He always did look up to you," he was saying. "I wonder if he still would have if he knew how I had protected you in school. That snivelling, scrawny little first year."

"A first year who was the only reason you passed your Charms N.E.W.T.," Snape couldn't resist throwing at him.

"I kept your secret. I even convinced the Dark Lord to let you into our ranks. He was reluctant at first, you know. Thought you were too young. Too weak. I told him how much you believed in the cause. How you wanted to make Potter and Black pay for what they did to you. I told him how brilliant you were." His face was inches from Snape's now. "I never told the rest of the school what you really were. Never told the Death Eaters. You filthy Half-blood!"

Snape had his wand in Lucius' stomach before the blond man even realized what was going on. "_Incarcerous!"_ Snape snarled, and Lucius went careening backward, ropes already appearing out of nowhere and binding him tight. He landed a few feet away, back hitting the wooden floor with a very audible thud. Snape allowed the spell to continue, wrapping Lucius tight around the ankles and waist, and then his wrists and his neck. Scrambling to his feet, Snape made his way around the wreckage and to the concealed kitchen door. He resisted the urge to give Lucius a good Entrail-Expelling Curse. He knew he shouldn't leave him alive, but he couldn't waste any more time. He flung open the hidden door, and used _Colloportus_ to seal it again. Then he flicked his wand, throwing open the trap door in the floor, and quickly lowered himself down into his basement and laboratory. Then he sealed the trap door as well.

Part of him wanted to take one of the yellow Intestine Boiling potions and down the whole thing. He had failed. Dumbledore had only been dead for two months, and he couldn't even protect Draco without him. He didn't know who hated more at the moment - Dumbledore, or himself.

There was the sound of a crash from above him; his door had been blasted open. He looked up through the cracks in the floorboard and could see shadows moving throughout his house. Snape began to panic, looking around for another escape route. _Why didn't I bother creating an exit down here?, _he thought, furious with himself. Then he heard a cold voice tell Lucius to get out of the way.

Two seconds later, the ceiling exploded.

Wood and bits of brick rained down upon Snape, who covered his head and ducked under his laboratory table to protect himself. He heard something drop lightly onto the floor from the kitchen above, and the outline figure could be seen as the smoke cleared. An icy chill filled his stomach as he realized who it was.

"Well," Voldemort said, silkily. "Hello, Severus."

Snape braced himself, emptying his mind, concentrating only on one thought: _I am not afraid._ He knew full well that was one of the biggest lies he had ever told in his entire life, including convincing all the students in his year that he was a Pureblood.

"Imagine my surprise, Severus, upon being informed that you had taken the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy. That, in itself, is somewhat forgivable. I'm sure she had certain ways of convincing you."

The meaning of those words was not lost on Snape. He didn't flinch, nor take a step back, as the Dark Lord came closer and closer.

"I was quite taken aback, however, that you lied to me. You see my problem here, Severus. No one lies to me. No one. It is impossible. I take great pride in knowing that. I know all, I see all." His red eyes flashed. "No one lies to me!"

Snape was only half listening. The other part of his mind was hell bent on coming up with a plan to get safely out of there. Although, the likelihood of that was becoming dimmer by the second. He couldn't fail again. He needed to escape.

"It would seem, My Lord, that you would be mistaken," Snape said, silkily. It was not one of his brightest moves. However, part of him felt like a great weight had finally been lifted off his chest. The Dark Lord knew. He could stop playing the part of the subservient Death Eater.

Voldemort sent a curse at him. Snape blocked it, and sent it ricocheting back. It crashed into the concrete wall behind.

"You always were powerful, Severus. I should have gotten rid of you long ago. I never thought you'd have the gall to betray me."

"Seems you were mistaken yet again."

Voldemort glowered, his eyes narrowing. "Yes. So it would seem. To lie to me takes great power. I assure you, you and only you, have managed it. This is disturbing, to say the least. I can't have my power being questioned."

Snape suddenly felt himself being hauled up into the air. An invisible hand had him by the neck of his robes.

"How long have you been deceiving me, Severus? Since I returned? Or before then? Were you Dumbledore's man even as you joined with me at seventeen?" Voldemort demanded. "And yet... and yet you still killed him. Why?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Snape sputtered, clawing at whatever was holding him. That seemed to be unnecessary, however, because as soon as the words left his mouth, he was thrown backward and into the far wall. All the while, he still never lost his grip on his wand.

"No one lies to me," Voldemort hissed, "and I will find out how and why you did. I am Lord Voldemort."

"You are a half-blood named Tom Riddle," Snape snarled. "Nothing more."

The room became deathly silent, and it felt like all the warmth had been sucked out. Snape counted five heartbeats in which nothing happened. And then, Voldemort did something completely unexpected.

He laughed.

"A half-blood named Tom Riddle. What about a half-blood named Severus Snape? I should have killed you then, once you admitted it to me. But I thought it would be rather hypocritical. After all, you.. like me... were merely trying to get rid of that part of you which never should have existed. And now that mistake has come back to haunt me. Something which I will very soon remedy. And trust me... you will beg for death. What is it that you're hiding, Severus? You are blocking me even now."

Voldemort sent something like a shockwave out of his wand. It sent the laboratory table, and all the cauldrons and potions ingredients, flying through the air, barely missing Snape, who had just struggled to his feet only to be pushed back into the wall again.

"I suspected you for some time. I'm sure you figured that, what with Wormtail being stationed at your house. But whatever plan you had worked for a time. With Dumbledore's death, those suspicions ended. It appears, however, that you just weren't careful enough," Voldemort stated. In an instant, he had moved from across the room to directly in front of Snape. He hoisted him into the air once more, his red eyes boring deep into Severus' black ones. Voldemort's long, white fingers wrapped around Snape's neck, and Snape felt his air supply being cut off.

"It's a shame, really, that I'm going to have to kill you, Severus," Voldemort whispered, coldly. "You really are quite resourceful."

He took his eyes off Snape for less than a second to summon the rest of the Death Eaters down to the basement. Fortunately, a split second was all Snape needed. Pointing his wand at what was left of the ceiling, he managed to choke out, "_Bombarda Maxima!_"

Voldemort snarled and hurled Snape back across the room as more of the floorboards and a couple of the cabinets from the kitchen above came crashing down into the basement. One of the support rods almost crushed Snape, who had quick enough reflexes and managed to roll out of the way just in time. He quickly got to his feet, wand at the ready. Voldemort was glowering at him from across the room. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, feeling each other out. Snape was about to make the first move, when a smell registered in his nostrils. Voldemort, it seemed, had recognized it as well.

Snape looked around, trying to find the source of it... There! He had forgotten that the mill houses came equipped with gas burners. Being a Wizard, he never bothered to have it changed to electric when he had taken the house. Apparently, the last explosion had knocked something loose in the burner, and the smell that both he and Voldemort recognized was a gas leak.

For the first time in his life, Severus Snape was glad his father had been a Muggle.

Snape and Voldemort glanced at each other, and then to the gas burner. It dawned on Voldemort what Snape was about to do a little too late.

Knowing he would have to time this absolutely perfectly, Snape - quick as a flash - pointed his wand at the boiler and thought, _Incendio!_ and then ran like hell.

The explosion was immediate. Voldemort barely had time to react, but Snape was already concentrating on his Apparition point. Unfortunately, his timing was not exactly as spot on as he thought. He had just begun turning on the spot when the burner exploded, and thusly caught some of the resulting blast. The wall in front of him was blown away, and he was flung out of the basement and into the night with the rest of the debris. He had no idea how far the force of the explosion was carrying him, but suddenly the ground was rushing up at him at an alarming speed. He hit it hard and almost lost his wand. He hit it so forcefully, in fact, that it caused him to rise back up into the air again. When he hit the ground once more, his head smashed into something cold and hard, and then everything went dark.

* * *

Tobias Snape should have learned early on not to make his son angry. 

One day when Severus was three years old, he was sitting in his booster chair, munching on some Cheerios, when his father came home from work. He looked angry, and he was stumbling around a lot and shouting for Severus' mother. This made Severus start to feel a bit anxious. When Daddy yelled, usually things got broken and Mummy cried a lot. He stopped to watch the scene unfold, a Cheerio half way into his mouth. His father was yelling about his dinner not being ready again. His mother was trying to calm him down, saying something about how he was early, and that she would have had dinner ready if she had known what time he was going to be home. Even at three years old, that seemed to make sense to Severus. Then he heard the words, "Stupid witch!" and watched as his father threw his mother roughly to the kitchen floor.

Severus dropped his Cheerio. His mother was lying on the ground, not looking at his father or Severus, and Tobias was still yelling and throwing things around.

Severus hated his booster seat. It was too tall for him to get up into by himself, and too scarily high for him to get out of by himself. And he desperately wanted to get out now. His father stormed over to his mother and actually threw one of the pots down at her. "What's the use of being married to an unnatural thing like yourself if you can't even make a fucking simple stew?" he shouted.

Severus had no idea how he had done it, but suddenly he wasn't in his booster seat anymore. He was on the floor, next to his mother. Apparently, this was a surprise to his father as well, for he did a double take, and narrowed his eyes at his son.

"How the hell did you get down there?" he demanded.

Little Severus stuck his tiny chin out, puffed up his chest, and said, "Don't you hurt my Mummy."

And then Tobias Snape was blown out the nearest window.

Which was the precise moment in which the now much older Severus regained consciousness, the memory floating away to the back of his mind. The first thing that registered was that he was lying face down on the ground. Second, there was a blinding pain in his side. And third, he could smell something burning. It was easy to figure out the reasons for one and three. His house had exploded, sending him flying outside. And the burning was because his house was undoubtedly on fire because of said explosion. As for what was causing the pain...

Snape managed to bring himself to his knees. He was coughing soot out of his lungs, and his wand was lying next to him on the ground. The coughing just made the pain in his side increase, and, impatiently, he looked down to see what was causing it. A stick, or a piece of wood from the house, was protruding out of his right side. He must have landed on it during the explosion. Grunting, he pulled it out, his hands becoming slick with blood. As it turned out, it probably would have been better for him to have just left it alone. The piece of wood - it looked like part of the rafters - had been longer than Severus thought, and it punctured him deeply. Blood was oozing out of the wound now, dripping down his robes and onto his shoes and the surrounding grass.

_Get up_, he ordered himself. _Get up, get UP, you lazy bastard_!

Gritting his teeth through the pain, he forced himself to a standing position and risked a look around. His house - or what was left of it - was in flames. A few of the Muggles that still lived in the mill neighborhoods were already crowding about, and in the distance he could hear the roar of a fire engine. _They don't waste time, do they?_ he thought.

Holding his hand to his side in an effort to stop some of the bleeding, Snape grabbed his wand off the ground and started to limp away. There was no sign of the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord, but he doubted very much that they would have left without making sure that he was dead. Every step was excruciating, but he made his way down the street, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible, and then took off into the woods behind the houses in an effort to reach the river bank and Apparition point.

He didn't dare risk using his wand to light his path, so he was running blind. Fortunately, he had grown up in this very neighborhood and had snuck out into these woods on many nights, and could easily find his way around. Back then, however, a murdering maniac and his equally maniacal followers weren't after him.

Something hot whizzed passed his arm, and he ducked out of the way just in time as another spell followed it. Turning, he could see a masked Death Eater coming up behind him. The from the short stature and clunky gait, he guessed that that it was Alecto Carrow. Pointing at spot below her stomach, he thought, _Sectumsempra!_ A huge gash appeared, spewing blood, and she went down, but Snape was already on the run once more. He'd gone numb to the pain by now, pushing it out of his mind, and within minutes he arrived at the fence and the river beyond. He didn't bother running the couple of feet to the left that lead to the fence opening, and in a rush of adrenaline hopped over it instead. He landed, clutching his side, and only stumbled once.

"There!" he heard someone yell.

Snape turned to see six masked Death Eaters and the Dark Lord behind him. "Bring him to me alive!" Voldemort hissed.

_Not bloody likely_, Snape thought. He gathered his strength, and hoping to God and Merlin he didn't splinch himself, turned roughly on the spot. He concentrated on only one thought, _London_, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

* * *

Hermione Granger - Head Girl, former Prefect, and the top student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - had never yelled at a teacher in her entire life. Yet, she found that was exactly what she was doing now. 

Three days ago, she, Ron, and Ginny had returned to Hogwarts without, Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore, and life went back to normal. Hermione was shocked and disappointed to see only half of the Great Hall was filled with students. Professor McGonagall introduced the school to their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a very young woman named Elizabeth Cheston, who Hermione soon found out was an Auror, fresh out of training. This had been Cheston's first assignment. Needless to say, she was not exactly thrilled about it. She had long, platinum blond hair that was swooped over to one side and then tied in a pony tail.

"If one person calls me Professor Cheston, I swear they'll get a T," she told them on the first day of class. "I feel like I've just left this place myself, and it makes me feel old. Everyone calls me Lizard, but Elizabeth will do, if you absolutely feel like you have to."

Ginny told them later that she was friends with Tonks, and was in a different division than the Metamorphmagus, specializing in investigation. The reason that Hogwarts was Cheston's first assignment dawned on Hermione in no time - Dumbledore's murder.

Slughorn started off his class by going over their syllabus, and reminding everyone of their upcoming N.E.W.T.s. Hermione, of course, had been studying all summer. Ron was muttering something about it being O.W.L. year all over again.

"But you did well on your O.W.L.s," Hermione had reminded him. Ron just sulked anyway, and Hermione sighed. She had learned to ignore him when he got like that.

Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Vector, and Anthros all pretty much did the same thing as Slughorn, and Hermione had a pile of homework within the first two days that made even her head spin.

She and Ron ate dinner together in the common room on their second night, and Ron was asking whether or not he should write to Harry.

"I'm sure he's really busy, Ron," she had told him. "I know you miss him. I miss him, too. But, he wanted us to go back to school, and he needs to carry on with his training."

Ron sighed. "Fine. I guess I'll just write him over the weekend. Do you think McGonagall will let us visit him next Saturday or something?"

Hermione knew very well that the answer would probably be no, but she nodded encouragingly anyway to make Ron feel better.

The next morning, she and Ron went down to breakfast to find the Great Hall in an uproar. Owls were flying everywhere, dropping Prophets and letters to so many students and so often that there were literally piles on the tables, and people were having to sort through them all to find the ones marked for them. Students were shouting, and some looked like they were having panic attacks. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall were both in the crowd, trying to calm everybody down.

"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted. "What's going on?" He picked up a lone Prophet that was lying on the ground underneath one of the benches, took one look at the front page, and grabbed Hermione forcefully by the wrist.

"Ouch!" she gasped. "What is it, Ron?"

His face had gone very white, and with a shaking hand he handed the Prophet to Hermione. "Azkaban," was all he said.

Ten minutes later, Hermione, Ron, and Professor McGonagall were in the Headmistresses office having a blazing row.

"You _have_ to let us go back!" Hermione was shouting. She was pacing the office, practically tearing her hair out. "Harry needs us!"

"It is the middle of the week, Miss Granger!" McGonnagal argued back. "I will allow you both to visit Mr. Potter on Saturday, but until then-"

"That's not good enough!" Hermione yelled, face red.

"Hermione's right, Professor! You can't just expect us to sit here, twiddling our thumbs-" Ron began, but McGonnagal cut him off.

"I expect you to act like the adult wizards that you are. You have studying to do! Mr. Potter would not want to be responsible for the two of you not doing well because you were making yourself sick worrying about him."

"I never should have come back," Ron huffed. "I knew I shouldn't have let him talk me into this. This is bull shit!"

"Twenty-five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, and I will remind you to watch your tongue," McGonnagal snapped. "And as for you, Miss Granger, I am truly shocked at your behavior. You a Head Girl, and know better than to act in such a manner. If you continue carrying on like this, I may be forced to choose someone else for the position."

Hermione stuck her chin out defiantly. "Go ahead then. Harry is more important than a Head Girl's badge."

Ron and McGonagall both stared, and several of the portraits in the room actually stopped pretending to sleep to stare at her as well. Even Phineas looked shocked before disappearing from his frame, probably going to Grimmauld Place to tell Harry what horrible little demons his friends were being.

McGonnagal narrowed her eyes. "I know for a fact that you don't mean that, Miss Granger. You are letting your temper get the better of you. Now, believe me, I know how much Potter means to you, and how much you all mean to each other. But he has made his choice, and you two have made yours. Part of growing up is learning to deal with those choices. Don't you think I am as upset as you are about this turn of events? I'm sure an emergency meeting of the Order will be called-"

"We want to go," Ron said, imeadiately.

"-which I will be going to alone," McGonnagal continued, as if Ron hadn't spoken. "I will allow you to use the Floo in my office to talk to Mr. Potter after the meeting. But the two of you _will not_ be going anywhere until the weekend, and that is my final word on the matter."

The two argued with her for a few more minutes, and by the time they had left - having lost fifty points all together from Gryffindor - they were both red faced and angry. Hermione was actually close to tears, but whether that was from losing the points or losing her argument, Ron wasn't too sure.

"I can't believe you were going to chuck your Head Girl badge, Hermione," he told her, flabbergasted.

Hermione blew a piece of hair out of her face impatiently. "There are more important things," she said. "Like Harry. Like the war. Like us," she added, putting her hand in his. "Ugh! I just can't believe she's being so stubborn on this! She knows that the best place for us to be right now is with Harry. We're a team."

"He broke up the team, remember?" Ron muttered.

"Ronald, he did no such thing."

"Oh, yeah? Then why are we here, without him, and he's at Grimmauld Place about to go find the you-know-what's without us?"

Hermione had nothing to say to that. But she knew that when it came time for the two of them to be able to speak to Harry, she would have plenty.

* * *

Harry was in a towering temper even before Phineas appeared in his frame at Grimmauld Place, and was definitely in no better mood once he left. He didn't know who to be mad at more; Hermione and Ron for acting like idiots on their third day back at Hogwarts, or at McGonnagal for not letting them come to see him. As it was, he would be seeing at least one of them within the hour. 

As McGonnagal had predicted, an emergency Order meeting was called later on that afternoon. Moody, Tonks, and Lupin were already at Grimmauld Place. Kingsly, McGonnagal, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and the rest of the Order followed soon after. It was quite funny to see about twenty-five to thirty people stuffed into the kitchen at Number Twelve. Harry greeted everybody as they came in - he only gave McGonnagal a curt nod and didn't really care how childish she thought he was being - and then Lupin called the meeting to order.

Everyone started shouting at once.

"I can't _believe_ You-Know-Who actually did it!"

"With Dumbledore dead, he thinks he can do anything.."

"How are we going to survive this? This is _unreal_..."

"Remus, what are we going to do?!"

"Everyone, _settle down_!" Remus barked, loud enough to be heard over everyone. "We're all very upset and disturbed by this latest bit of news, I know. But we have to calm down and work together, or we'll be here forever. Tonks... Kingsly, what does the Auror front look like?"

Tonks snorted and Kingsly shook his head. "Not good so far, Remus. Scrimgeour's recruiting more Auror's now than ever in light of the situation. He's upping the training fifty percent. Everyone can pretty much kiss any vacation time goodbye."

"And he's allowing the use of Unforgivables during investigations and battles with suspected Death Eater," Tonks added. Her hair was back to the mousy brown it had been during Harry's sixth year, matching the solemn mood of everyone in the room.

"Fight fire with fire?" Mr. Weasley shook his head. "They're not going to get anywhere doing that. It may backfire. The Auror's may end up being just as feared as the Death Eaters."

Harry tended to agree. They had talked about this at the last meeting - the fact that the Order and the Auror's were against using torture and things like the Unforgivable curses were what made them different from Voldemort.

"I take it the rest of the Ministry is taking this as well as the Minister himself?" Remus asked Mr. Weasley.

"It's bloody turmoil over there," he said. "They're acting like it's Armageddon, which it may very well end up being. If he has Azkaban, it means we're in trouble. We have no place now to keep those whom we suspect are Death Eaters, or any other criminal for that matter. The whole place has gone crazy."

"And the rest of the Wizarding world isn't reacting any better, but who can blame them?" McGonnagal added. "The Great Hall was a complete mess this morning."

"What are we going to do?" Harry asked. He was absolutely infuriated with the Ministry for letting this happen. _Instead of going off and arresting people like Mundungus and Stan Shunpike, they should have been preparing themselves for a situation like this._ For a brief moment, he almost understood why Scrimgeour would want someone like Harry vouching for them. _Idiots_, he thought, disdainfully.

Harry knew very well what the others were reluctant to admit out loud - they were losing. And from what he was hearing, as the Order kept discussing their options and the Ministry's reaction, this were not going to be turning around any time soon. _I have to find those Horcruxes_, he thought, firmly. _Now more than ever._ His resolved strengthened ever so slightly, he turned back to the Order's discussion.

"The war has officially begun now," Remus was saying, "and we obviously can't rely on the Ministry to take action anymore. We may have to start taking things into our own hands. And..." he glanced at Harry, "with the loss of Severus as our spy, things are going to be very difficult. But we can't lose hope. We must always have hope."

The Order stayed until well past supper, and only after everyone had left and McGonnagal returned to Hogwarts were Ron and Hermione finally allowed to use the Floo and speak to him.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione's head said. Both hers and Ron's were floating in the fireplace down in the kitchen. "How did the meeting go? What's going on at the Ministry?"

"First thing's first," Harry told them. "What is up with you threatening to turn over your badge, Hermione?"

Hermione looked shocked. "How did you-?"

"McGonnagal!" Ron shouted. "What a bloody gossip!"

"Actually, Phineas told me," Harry corrected him. "Said you two were acting like right idiots."

"Who cares what Phineas thinks?" Ron scoffed, and Harry could hear someone muttering in the background. "Oh, shut up, you!" Ron said, his head turning around in the fireplace, obviously yelling at Phineas' portrait in the Headmistresses office.

"Dumbledore's portrait didn't happen to wake up while you were in there, did it?" Harry asked. He hadn't mentioned what he'd seen the night they left Hogwarts to his friends yet. He wasn't sure why he was keeping it from them, other than him just thinking he'd imagined it and didn't want to sound crazy.

Hermione's head shook back and forth. "No. It's still sleeping. I'm wondering if there was something wrong with the animation spell."

"Anyway, I told you to go back to school so you could graduate. Not get expelled," Harry said, hotly.

"We were worried about you, Harry," Hermione told him. "We just wanted to be with you. This is the first time we haven't been together in six years."

"Yeah, mate, cut us some slack," Ron quipped.

Harry found that he couldn't stay mad at them for long. In fact, it felt rather good that both Ron - and especially Hermione - would go off on a teacher like that just for him.

"All right, then. The meeting went like this..."

Harry proceeded to recount everything that they had discussed that day, and told them about Remus' stance of working without the authority of the Ministry.

"About bloody time," Ron said. "Scrimgeour's acting more like that nutter Barty Crouch every day. He did the same thing, you know... allowing Unforgivables."

"Yeah, I remember," Harry said.

"I can't believe they killed Narcissa Malfoy," Hermione said. "It couldn't have been an accident. They must have done it because of Draco. The paper said that the whole house had been destroyed. They found her body out on the lawn." She shuddered. "The Prophet said it was almost as if someone had placed it there, pointing at the ruins."

"Sick," muttered Ron. "Don't get me wrong - the whole family is a bunch of evil, nasty Pure-blood maniacs, but she didn't need to get murdered just because Draco messed up."

"You don't know Voldemort," Harry said, quietly.

"Well, if Narcissa's dead, it probably means Draco is dead, too," Hermione said. "It's rather awful, really. If it wasn't for his parents, Draco may have turned out alright."

"Well, I guess we'll never know now," Harry said.

"Voldemort has Azkaban," Hermione whispered, shaking her head. "I still can't believe it. Things aren't going well, are they, Harry?"

"No," Harry said. "No, they're not. We could all really use Dumbledore right now."

And, gripping the golden locket around his neck, he hoped to God that somehow the portrait in McGonnagal's office could hear him.

* * *

_A/N: Again, please remember that I haven't read "Deathly Hallows" yet, and DO NOT post SPOILERS. Thank you._


End file.
